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GLORY AND THE SHAME 



ENGLAND. 



" In England, those who till the earth, and make it lovely and fruitful by 
their labours, are only allowed the slave's share of the many blessings they 
produce." 



BY C. EDWARDS LESTER 



IN TWO VOLUMES. 



VOL. I. 4-' 



NEW-YORK: 
HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF STREET. 

]S5 0. ,. 




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by 

Harper iS: Brothers. 
In the Clerlt's Office of the Southern Dist.nct (if Ncw-York. 






r^. 



TO THE REV. JOEL TYLER HEADLY. 

What I have here written, my dear Headly, I in- 
scribe to you : would it were more worthy of being 
dedicated to one of my early, one of my best friends. 
But 1 am persuaded you will generously overlook 
its faults, as you have my own. In a treacherous 
world, you have never deceived me. In my rever- 
ses of fortune I have ever been cheered by your 
sympathy ; in my prosperity you have ever rejoiced. 

Since first we met on the peaceful shores of Onei- 
da, we have gone forth to mingle with the world — to 
be deceived by its flattery and wounded by its self- 
ishness; to struggle with its stormy passions, and 
meet its stern realities. How often, amid the du- 
ties of a profession subject to greater trials than 
any other, have we grown weary in contemplating 
the sorrows of earth and the perfidy of professing 
friends ', how often wished to forget the present, and 
travel back among the quiet groves where we 



VUl 

once loved to wander ; to recall the images of the 
kind and the beautiful with whom we then wor- 
shipped around the magic altars of boyhood's love. 

But one word about ray book. In publishing 
these Letters, I have yielded to the counsel of those 
in whose judgment I confide more than in my own. 
I do not flatter myself that in all points I shall be fa- 
voured with the sympathy or the concurrence of the 
reader. Many, perhaps, will think I have drawn too 
dark a picture of the oppressions and wrongs of the 
English government; of the sufferings and sorrows 
of the mass of the British people. To such I can 
only say, I have described things as they appeared 
to me, and endeavoured to write with candour. 

The pleasure of visiting our Father-Land ; of wan- 
dering among its venerable monuments ; of conver- 
sing with its illustrious men, was all sadly marred 
by the sight of the misery, ignorance, oppression, 
and want I met on every side. 

I well know the dreadful meaning of the words, 
but I would sooner see the children of my love born 
to the heritage of Southern slavery, than to see them 
subjected to the blighting bondage of the poor Eng- 
lish operative's hfe. England is a proud and wicked 
nation. In her insatiate love of gain and boundless 
ambition for conquest 3 in her unjust treatment of her 



IX 

dependant colonies and foreign nations ; and, above 
all, in her oppression of her own poor but generous 
people, she is without a parallel in ancient or modern 
times. England has laid up for herself a sure store 
of vengeance ; and God will yet visit her for her pride 
and wrong-doing. 

I know these are strong assertions ; but they can 
be sustained. Nor need we resort to any hostile 
record of her transactions to warrant this condem- 
nation : by the testimony of her own writers and 
statesmen these heavy charges can be abundantly 
substantiated j and from these sources, so free from 
all objection, I have presented evidence that must 
convince the most incredulous. 

In writing this work I have thought I might ren- 
der some service to my country, by diffusing among 
its citizens a more correct knowledge of the spirit 
and condition of the nation with whom, at no dis- 
tant day, they may be brought into collision ; and 
by inspiring them, if possible, with a warmer re- 
gard and love for their own free institutions, and 
more devout gratitude to Heaven for the blessings 
they dispense. 

I am prepared for abuse from Englishmen on both 
sides the Atlantic — I expect it. They will ask, with 
no slight manifestation of astonishment, " What 



i 



does the author mean by the Shame of England ? 
Who ever heard of the Shame of England ?" Al- 
ready have several educated and highly respectable 
young men, engaged (with unprecedented success) 
in procuring subscribers for this work, been rudely 
driven from the houses of Englishmen, for crossing 
their threshold with the prospectus. And I blush 
(but not for myself or country), to say that one of 
our celebrated authors, whose partiality for Republi- 
canism has been more than doubted, threatened to 
kick one of these young men out of his house (cas- 
tle), if he did not instantly leave it ; exclaiming, 
" Why, have you the impudence to hand me that 
prospectus ? I understand what the Glory of Eng- 
land means ; but, as for the Shame of England, there 
is no such thing. The shame is all in that base 
Democracy, which makes you presume to enter a 
gentleman's house to ask him to subscribe for such 
a book." 

There are thousands of Englishmen in our land, 
driven from their own country by its intolerable op- 
pressions, who yet deny, when they get here, that 
there is any such thing. They have little sympathy 
with our institutions; and no love for the country 
which has adopted them. How different all this 
from the enthusiastic attachment of the generous- 



XI 

hearted Irishman, who has " dashed from his hps the 
poisoned cup of European servitude," for a home in 
this New Free World. 

But I ought, and I do say, with pleasure, that 
there are many Englishmen in America worthy of 
a home among us; that there is, too, a numerous 
band of noble Reformers in England, not afraid to 
proclaim the injustice of their government. In 
their breasts the fires of the Puritans still burn ; they 
know the truth, and fed it ; they love humanity — 
liberty. May God bless them. 

Nor have I forgotten that I found many noble 
hearts in England : they took me by the hand, and 
gave me a generous welcome ; and since my return 
I have had occasion to know that by some of them, 
at least, I am still remembered. Not a day passes 
that I do not think of their cheerful homes in 
" Green Albion." For all this unexpected, un- 
sought, and unmerited kindness to a stranger, they 
have his gratitude ; and his prayers for the blessing 
of the " stranger's God." 

When I stepped upon my native soil again, my 
eyes had been so wearied with the sight of oppres- 
sion and suffering, I felt from my heart that I could 
embrace every green hill-top of our own free land — 
I thanked God I was an American. 



xu 

If hy these pages I shall inspire one reader with a 
higher love for Truth and Freedom ; with a deeper 
indignation against wrong; with a nobler purpose 
to diffuse the hallowed spirit of Liberty throughout 
the world, I shall feel I have not written in vain. 

C. Edwards Lester. 

Utica, October 1, 1841. 



THE GLORY AND THE SHAME 

OF 

ENGLAND. 



London, May — , 1840. 

Dear , 

It is my first night in London. The bells of St. 
Paul's have just struck the hour of midnight. I am 
sitting in an old oak chair, in a narrow and gloomy 
apartment of the Guildhall Coffee-house, which 
stands in the heart of this great metropolis. There 
is but one window in the room, and the storm is 
beating against it. I am surrounded by two millions 
of human beings, and yet, of all this vast multitude, 
there is probably no one I ever saw before. Should 
I be struck down with disease to-night, no friend 
would watch my bed ; were I to die, no one would 
let fall a tear on my grave. I begin to feel the 
truth of that well-known saying of Johnson, " There 
is no solitude so awful to the stranger as London." 

After I left the railway station at Euston Square, 
I rode on mile after mile, scarcely realizing that I 
was among those very scenes of which from child- 
hood I had so often read, and about which I had 
thought so long and so earnestly. I longed for 
daylight to unfold the wonders of that crowded 

Vol. L— B 



14 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

world through which I was moving. The lamps 
here and there cast a flickering and uncertain glare 
upon the adjacent pavements and houses. To avoid 
the throng, we passed through different by-streets, 
where not a lamp was to be seen, nor a voice heard, 
save the noise of low debauchery coming up from 
some foul and dismal cellar. What scenes, thought 
I, should I witness could I but look into all these 
dwelUngs. In that house an aged man, long weary 
of the world, just drawing his last breath ; in the 
next, an infant opening its eyes for the first time 
upon the light. In that stately mansion is heard 
the sound of mirth and revelry, while by its side an 
orphan, who has this very day asked for food a thou- 
sand times, and asked in vain, is shivering in the 
cold damps of night. In that lonely chamber might 
be heard the dying groan of one once beautiful and 
virtuous, but now outcast and deserted, with no one 
but God to see her die; while, perhaps, in some 
neighbouring dwelling, pure young hearts are ex- 
changing their vows of love. Here the abandoned 
are revelling in pollution, where the very air is load- 
ed with guilt, while, separated from them only by a 
thin wall, the subdued voice of prayer and praise is 
ascending to heaven. 

London ! How much there is in that single word. 
It is not a city — it is a world by itself Thousands, 
it is said, live and die here without ever seeing the 
blessed hght of heaven shining on the green fields. 
The wealth of London would wellnigh purchase 



POOR BLIND WOMAN. 15 

half the globe, and yet there are in it one hundred 
and fifty thousand poor wretches who feel the keen 
pangs of hunger every day. It is now the hour 
when the poor, the weary, the guilty, the heart-bro- 
ken, who have homes, have gone to their rest ; those 
who have none are wandering through dreary lanes, 
to find some transient shelter ; the hour, too, when 
the rich, the gay, the noble, have just begun to min- 
gle in scenes of splendour and dissipation. "What a 
spectacle must London present to the All-Seeing eye 
at midnight. But it is late ; and I am so much fa- 
tigued that I must defer giving you a description ol 
the incidents of the past day until to-morrow. 



On my way to the cars in Liverpool I met a blind 
woman, who was standing at the corner of one of 
the principal streets : her only covering was a tat- 
tered skirt, a ragged handkerchief thrown over her 
shoulders, and an old straw bonnet tied on her head 
with a coarse string. She entreated me in God's 
name, whoever I might be, if I knew how to pity a 
poor blind woman who was starving, to give her a 
penny ; for if I or some one else did not, she should 
certainly starve. I had heard so much about the 
" profession" of begging, that I was determined, 
whenever asked for charity, to examine the case for 
myself. I stopped, therefore, a few moments to con- 
verse with this woman. There could, at least, be 
no deception in her eyes ; for they had both perish- 
ed, and left only thdr hollow sockets behind. She 



16 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

needed clothing, and looked wan and hungry. 
But, after all, Suspicion would say, " She may be 
hired to beg, and assumes this air of want and 
wretchedness only to win sympathy j" and so it 
might be that she was a poor victim of misfortune, 
innocent in the eye of Heaven, thrown upon the 
tender mercies of a stranger, who may himself one 
day feel what it is to beg or starve. So long as 
there was a possibility of this, I could not wrong 
my own soul by turning one of God's creatures un- 
feelingly away. When I offered her some money, 
she reached forth her shrivelled hand, saying, " God 
bless you, master ! I wish I had eyes to see you — 
and I hope you may never be blind ; but if you 
should get blind, I do hope you won't be naked and 
hungry too, and without a home or a friend in the 
world, besides." I felt sick at heart when I left the 
old woman, and the last words I heard her utter 
were a prayer that God would bless me. I may 
become so familiar with spectacles of this kind be- 
fore the summer is over as to pass the beggar by 
without assistance or sympathy ; but in this instance 
I certainly felt that the blessing of one ready to per- 
ish was upon me. 

As I was passing from the office to the cars, a 
very pretty but pale-faced girl came up to me, with 
a basket of books on her arm, and in a sweet voice 
inquired if I did not wish to get a Companion. I 
answered, "That will depend entirely upon the 
character — a gentleman or a lady 1" " Oh, sir," 



RAILWAY COMPANION. 17 

she said, with a smile, " a Companion that will be 
of more service to you than either : more intelligent 
than a gentleman, and less troublesome than a la- 
dy ;" at the same time handing me " The London, 
Birmingham, Liverpool, and Manchester Railway 
Companion." I was interested in the girl's appear- 
ance, and I asked her a few questions. She seemed 
to be in poor health, and this was readily explained : 
" I have sold Companions and Guides here," said 
she, " ever since the railway opened, on the 4th of 
July, 1837. That 4th of July I think a deal of; for 
I have a brother in America, and he says there is no 
such country in the world. I should think he liked 
your country better than his own." 

" Pray how did you know I was an American V 

" Well, sir, I can hardly tell you ; but there is 
something about an American gentleman that strikes 
me the first moment 1 see him ; and I always try to 
find them, for they almost always buy my Compan- 
ions. But they forever ask me if I can't take less 
than a crown for the book ; and when I say I am a 
poor girl, and have by selhng books to support my 
mother who has the consumption, and a little brother 
who had both his arms crushed by the machinery of 
the factory, and all the rest of us are dead (except 
William, who is in New- York), then they don't ask 
me to take less, and very often give me more." 

" Where does your mother live V 

" She lives about six miles from town now j but 
she used to live in Bristol." 
B2 



18 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" Did you ever hear Robert Hall preach ?' 

" Oh ! yes, sir; we used to go to Mr. Hall's Chapel, 
and many a time has he come to tea at our house ; 
and when he came he always had his pockets full 
of something good for us. But he has gone to 
heaven now, if any one goes there." 

" Could you understand his preaching ?" 

" I was very young, and had not much education, 
and I could not understand much of his preaching 
of a Sunday ; but I could understand almost every 
word when he lectured in the evening ; and every 
time he came to see us, he would read the Bible, and 
explain it as he went along, and pray and talk to 
us about religion ; and then I could understand every 
word. What made me like Mr. Hall so much was 
because he was so kind to the poor : he never was 
ashamed to speak to them in the street, or anywhere 
he met them. Do you have such ministers in 
America ?' 

" We have a great many good ministers, but not 
many, I fear, like Mr. Hall. How many hours a 
day do you spend here V 

" I am here when every train goes out, and I sleep 
between them." 

" Don't this injure your health ?" 

" Yes, sir ; for, when I came here, I was not the 
pale girl you see now ; I was as ruddy as any girl 
in Lancashire. But I am willing to work hard to 
help dear mamma and poor little Charlie, for they 
can't help themselves. They get along through the 



THE POOR girl's NARRATIVE. 19 

week as well as they can, and when Saturday night 
comes I go home, and we have some good things, 
and are so happy when we are together that we 
think we have pretty good times." 

" How much do you get by selling these Compan- 
ions ?' 

" The Company give me sixpence for every one I 
sell J and, although I wish they could allow me a 
little more, yet I feel very thankful for thatj for 
what I get here, with what my brother sends from 
America, makes us pretty comfortable. If I had 
not been obliged to pay the surgeon so much for 
cutting off Charlie's arms, and for coming to see 
mamma, I should feel encouraged. But I don't want 
to complain. I remember Mr. Hall used to say that 
"we are all treated better than we deserve, and that 
we should not complain when God afflicts us, for it's 
no sign that he does not love us just as well as ever." 

"I am glad to hear you express such feehngs, 
my poor girl, though I am sorry for you." 

" Oh, sir," said she, " if you could see how many 
thousands there are in England that have nothing 
but what they get by begging ; how many there 
are that go naked and hungry, you wouldn't pity 
me. The only thing that troubles me much is, I am. 
growing so weak that I fear I shall not be able to 
sell books much longer, and I don't know what we 
shall do when I get sick and helpless. We can go 
to the workhouse, but it makes me feel very gloomy 
to think about that. I suffer a good deal in think- 



20 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ing "what we should have to put up with if we went 
there ; and, rather than go there, I shall work as 
long as I can." 

I think, dear , I know you too well to sup- 
pose you will not be interested in these conversa- 
tions. I am persuaded that far more may be learn- 
ed of English society by hearing persons of all class- 
es describe their own feelings, than is to be gather- 
ed from any other source. The poor best know 
their own sorrows, and are sure to express the real 
feelings of the heart. 

As I took my book, and the girl turned away to 
find another customer, an accomplished and fine- 
looking man of youthful appearance (who had been 
seated near us, and overheard our conversation) call- 
ed her back, and gave her a sovereign for one of her 
books, and then politely handing me his card, with 
an apology for introducing himself, inquired if I was 
going up to London. " Yes, my lord," I replied, 
when I saw, from a glance at the card, that I was 
addressing an Irish nobleman. 

" Will you give an Irishman the pleasure of your 
company ? I have taken one apartment for London, 
and nothing will be more agreeable than to have 
you for a companion," 

I replied, as I put my card in his hand, that I 
would accept his kind invitation no less for the 
pleasure of riding with an Irishman than with a no- 
bleman. "Your republicanism I do respect," said 
he, " after all ; for the nobleman who does not merit 



PUBLIC WORKS. 21 

respect for his character is deserving of none for 
his title." 

Taking our seats in the carriage, which was fur- 
nished in the most expensive manner, with damask 
linings and the richest scarlet velvet, the whole train 
entered the grand tunnel which passes under the city. 
This is a stupendous work, being a mile and a quar- 
ter in length, seventeen feet high, and twenty-five 
wide, and constructed at an expense of nearly a 
million of dollars. The carriages are drawn up by 
means of a stationary engine at Edge Hill, where 
the tunnel terminates. It caused a most singular, 
and by no means pleasant sensation, thus to pass 
through the bowels of the earth, under the streets, 
churches, and warehouses of a great city. It re- 
minded me of the long, dark, damp caverns of the 
Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. 

One of the first things that excited my astonish- 
ment in this country was the enormous wealth one 
sees expended in its public works. The principal 
railways of England and Wales already opened, 
or in course of construction, number fifty-four, be- 
sides a great number of minor importance, exclusive 
I of many other projected lines, some of which have 
received the sanction of Parliament, but are not like- 
ly to be executed at present. The total length of 
these fifty-four principal roads exceeds 1760 miles, 
independent of the smaller branches. The gross 
sum the different companies have been authorized to 
raise for the construction of these principal roads is 



22 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

no less than ^£58,754,033, or $284,957,059, reckon- 
ing $4.85 to the pound sterling. The actual ex- 
penditure is sometimes less than the amount au- 
thorized to be raised, but in many instances it 
exceeds it. The English railways are superior to 
those in the United States in every respect, as re- 
gards safety, speed, beauty, and durability. There 
is, indeed, an appearance of solidity and strength 
in nearly all their structures which is very rarely 
seen in ours. Their houses, public buildings, and 
works seem formed to last for ages; and they are, 
for this reason, more easily kept in repair. But we 
are told, and with some truth, that what is economy 
here would be unbounded extravagance with us. 
The immense investments in the numerous railways, 
nearly all of which have been made during the last 
ten years, have produced little or no embarrassment 
or fluctuation in the finances of the country. But 
this would not be so in the United States. For my- 
self, I have no fears that we shall not spend money 
enough in everything we undertake. We are al- 
ready following the example of England quite too 
fast. 

Every traveller who has written about this coun- 
try has spoken with admiration of the beauty of its 
scenery, the perfection of its roads, and the high 
state of cultivation which everywhere prevails. But 
I have found all these things even more perfect than 
I had anticipated. There is a freshness and a rich- 
ness in English landscape which exceed description. 



CHURCH OF ST. OSWALD. 23 

In coming from Liverpool up to London (a distance 
of 215 miles), almost every variety of scenery is 
brought to view. There is some legend of romance 
or fact in history to be told about every hill, and 
lake, and stream, and hamlet on our way. We 
passed old battle-fields, which had been strown with 
the bodies of past generations ; the ruins of ancient 
castles, which had been stormed to the ground, over- 
grown with ivy ; and through clumps of green trees, 
rising from the vale, might be seen the gray towers 
of some old church, built many hundred years ago. 
When I gazed upon the venerable church of St. Os- 
wald (seven miles from Liverpool) — which is said to 
be coeval with the establishment of Christianity — 
standing amid the ruins of the old British city of 
Cair Guiretguic, where Oswald, king of Northum- 
berland, had his palace, and was slain by Penda, 
king of Mercia ; and a little to the north of it, the 
Field of Gallows Croft, where Cromwell and his 
Republicans left the followers of the Duke of Hamil- 
ton, who had fled from Preston, dead upon the field, 
or hanged their prisoners upon the battle-ground — 
it all seemed like some dream of boyhood — only a 
dream. 

" There," said Lord , as we entered on 

the Vale Royal Viaduct at the 32f mile post, 
" there you can see the spire of Moilton village 
church, and to the west of it Vale Royal Abbey, 
the seat of Lord Delamere ; and I can tell you a story 
about the family of Cholmondeley. They were the 



24 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

patrons of the old Prophet Nixon, whose visions have 
great credit among the peasantry of the neighbour- 
hood even at the present day. They look upon the 
viaduct with a sort of ominous dread, regarding it 
as a fulfilment of one of the old seer's prophecies. 
He used to say, ' That when the rocks near Warring- 
ton should visit Vale Royal, the sun of the ancient 
family of Cholmondeley would go down.' The stone 
from which this viaduct was built did come from 
Hill Quarry, in Warrington ; and the good peas- 
antry have been not a little disturbed by it, though 
Lord Delamere himself follows his hounds and shoots 
his grouse with as much unconcern as ever. The 
peasantry say, too, that Nixon foretold that in the 
year 1837 England should be without a king ; and 
that year you know we were, in fact, kingless." 

Ten miles more brought us near Nantwich, which 
is the first place where the Romans manufactured 
salt in Britain, and where the widow of the great 
Milton died 114 years ago. We had here a fine 
view of the woods of Lord Crewe's domains. This 
old English seat is not at present occupied by its 
noble owner, and for a very good reason. The 
late Lord Crewe was addicted to the noble vice of 
betting, and staked so enormous a sum on a race, 
that, on losing it, he was obliged to mortgage his 
estate for the payment. On his death, the present 
Lord Crewe, -with filial chivalry, allowed the remain- 
ing portion of the debt to be paid from the rental of 
the estate, which has made him quite a stranger in 



DESCRIPTION OF CROCKPORI>S. 25 

these parts. How much longer this interesting ex- 
ile will be kept aloof from his paternal acres, prob- 
ably the mortgagee understands best. I remarked 

to Lord that the old sportsman should have 

enjoyed the race pretty well to compensate for the 
consequences. " Ah !" he replied, " if he had felt 
a moment before it as he did a moment after it, 
he would probably have made a better specula- 
tion." 

I then inquired how general the practice of betting 
was, and what were its effects among the nobility. 
" Why, sir," said he, " games and sports of hazard are 
the disgrace and curse of our nobility. The passion 
for this kind of excitement takes precedence of all 
others; and the amount of wealth that is lost, and the 
embarrassment and ignominy it brings upon their 
families, are incalculable. They are very punctilious 
in discharging these ' debts of honour,' and 1 have 
known splendid fortunes entirely ruined in a single 
night. There is a vast number of gaming-houses 
in London, but the chief of all is Crockford's; it 
is in the fashionable part of the town, and is proba- 
bly the most extensive and splendid gaming estab- 
lishment in the world : it is supposed that the house 
and furniture cost at least jE 100,000 (|500,000). 
There are but few saloons in London that can 
compare with Crockford's. The most sumptuous 
dinners are given at his expense, and the choicest 
wines that the city can afford are brought on freely, 
and without charge. Young noblemen who have 

Vol. L— C 



26 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

just succeeded to their estates, and others who have 
large expectancies, are sought out and taken by the 
arm by some 'friend' (in the pay of Crockford, 
and whose business it is to find out such persons), 
and are invited to dine at this establishment ; but 
not a word is said about cards or dice. They are 
flattered by the invitation, and accept it A superb 
dinner and a liberal supply of choice wines will of- 
ten inspire a disposition for gambling where it did 
not exist before. It is a prize worth striving for, to 
fleece one of these 'flats,' as they are called, and 
a regular plan is concerted to. effect it. All the 
finesse and diplomacy of experienced gamblers is 
brought into requisition. The intended victim of 
their snares is treated with the utmost courtesy and 
attention, and for the first few nights is allowed al- 
most invariably to win. During the interval. Crock- 
ford and his agents have informed themselves ' for 
how much he is good,' and he has been inspired 
with confidence in his skill and a deeper passion 
for play. The road to ruin is made smooth ; every 
obstacle to his progress is removed. All his desires 
are gratified; he seems to have everything in his 
own way ; his purse is filled with unexpected gold, 
and he dashes into the fashionable world with ex- 
ultation and display. 

" This business of gaming is never prosecuted to 
any great extent, except under the maddening in- 
fluence of the bottle ; and Crockford's wine-cellar, 
which is the great agent that ensures the success of 



PROGRESS OF THE GAMBLER. 27 

the house, is 300 feet long, and filled with the 
choicest wines and liquors in the world : it contains 
300,000 bottles, and innumerable casks. Crock- 
ford's cook, the celebrated Monsieur (I for- 
get his name) has a salary of a thousand guineas 
per annum, and spreads an entertainment as mag- 
nificent as the heart of the most fastidious epi- 
cure could desire : and all this is at the service of 
the flushed young nobleman. 

"At last the tables are turned, and he begins to 
lose. But it is only the fortune of the game. No 
man can expect to have all the luck on his side, and 
the play goes on. His ready money is gone ; what 
shall he do 1 It will not answer for him to be em- 
barrassed now ; he has made a sensation in the cir- 
cles of fashion and rank ; it must not be whispered 

at Almack's that young Lord can no longer 

keep up his elegant establishment : but he has no 
money. This matters not, since Crockford's bank, 
which is always full, will advance him all the mon- 
ey for which they have ascertained him *to be 
good.' 

" He is now ready for a deeper and more exciting 
game, with the belief that his luck will turn, and 
he feels that he must win back his money, or fall 
from his elevation in disgrace. In this state of mind, 
he is introduced to another and a private room, 
where the French hazard-table stands, and here the 
work of plunder and robbery is prosecuted on a 
grand scale. The stakes are usually high : the first 



28 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

he wins ; and then, persuaded that the tide of for- 
tune has at last turned in his favour, he resolves to 
seize the favoured hour to repair his broken for- 
tune. The next stake is higher, and this he also 
wins. Crockford's delicious wines sparkle on the 
table afresh, and the game once more goes on : an 
immense stake is laid, exceeding the aggregate of 
all that had gone before; the throw is made — he 
loses it. 

" He now feels that, unless he can recover himself 
by one fortunate throw, he is a ruined man ; and in 
the madness of desperation he resolves to make or 
mar his fortune forever : he stakes his all : the 
next cast of the dice makes the young nobleman a 
beggar. He gives his securities, signs the papers, 
and is seen no more. He embarks for the Continent, 
where he lives an exile from his paternal estates 
until their income discharges the obligation. After 
the best part of his days has been spent in atoning 
for his folly, he returns to his home, but generally a 
broken down and ruined man. For fifteen, twenty, 
or thirty years, he has been a stranger to his native 
land ; when he at length comes back, but few of his 
early friends are living ; and those who are, remem- 
ber little more than his name. As he drives up to 
his door, the old porter comes out to meet his long- 
exiled master, and blesses God for his return. Once 
more his ancestral halls are lighted up, and his ser- 
vants collected around him ; but none of them all, 
except the old housekeeper and the gray-headed 



crockford's. 29 

porter, have ever seen him before. A few early 
friends may gather about him, and he may improve 
his grounds and adorn his house ; but the remainder 
of his days are covered with gloom. 

" You may call this a melancholy picture, and think 
it can scarcely be so ; but let me relate to you a few 
facts in illustration of what I have said. Not many 

years ago, Lord paid down, on his coming of 

age, for debts of honour contracted at Crockford's 
before he was twenty-one years old, the enormous 
sum of .£100,000; and at about the same time, 

Lord , the grandson of an aged and venerable 

earl, lost ^630,000 in one night. It is well known 

that the Marquis of H has at different times 

won over a million and a half sterling, and spent 
the greater part of it in dissipation. If a gentleman 
whose estate is sufficiently large offers to play for a 
stake of jE 100,000 at Crockford's, he is instantly ac- 
cepted. 

" There is a moral certainty that every man who 
frequents that establishment will come off a beggar 
at last, unless he is a participator in the gains of the 
house ; and when his money and his estate are gone, 
he is no longer wanted there, and is generally turn- 
ed away with but little ceremony. Still, there are 
several regular gamblers at Crockford's who are not 
worth a farthing, their presence being indispensable 
to the success of the ' concern.' They are Crock- 
ford's creatures. They are not mere hangers-on, 
but active and efficient agents for their base-born 
C2 



30 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

master. They are constantly on the alert to catch 
every fortune which goes up to London. It is pretty 
generally understood that Count d'Orsay, the pres- 
ident of the board of fashion, who has done more 
to corrupt the society of the highest classes than 
any other man, is one of the most efficient and 
best paid ' flat-catchers' of Crockford's corps. In- 
deed, he is chiefly distinguished in that capacity, 
and as gallant to the Countess of Blessington. He 
married a daughter of the countess, and took the 
mother for his loife. 

" Ah ! that Crockford's is a terrible place. I have 
often been there to gratify my friends, and am per- 
fectly familiar with the whole establishment, but I 
never could be prevailed upon to play. I promised 
my father, when he was dying, that I would do these 
things; that I would maintain the honour of his 
house, preserve his family estates unimpaired, and 
never gamble ; and I have held my pledge sacred. 
But many of my friends have been ruined there. 

" A twelvemonth ago a young friend of mine, the 

Marquis of , came to me about 12 o'clock at 

night, in the saloon of the Atheneum Club, and asked 
me for .£1000. 1 knew he wanted it for play, but I 
had great confidence in his judgment and self-control; 
it was an inconsiderable sum, and I drew for him to 
the amount. He came out of the hazard-room in 
two or three hours with .£23,000. The next even- 
ing he staked and lost it all. He came to me at 
half past one o'clock that night, and asked me for 



RUIN BY GAMIMG. 31 

.£5000 : he was a friend, and I could not refuse him. 
I gave it to him, and in half an hour he had not only 
lost every guinea of it, but impoverished his family 
for ten years. You may imagine the feelings of his 
beautiful w^ife, when, on returning home from Al- 
mack's the same morning, she found at her door a 
man waiting to take her carriage to Tattersal's, to 
be sold for the benefit of Crockford's. Anticipating 
the result, I had gone with my friend to his house, 
on his leaving Crockford's. We were sitting in the 
drawing-room when his wife entered. He was al- 
most raving with madness. She was exceedingly 
alarmed when she perceived the change in her hus- 
band, and came to him, took his hand, and asked 
him what troubled him. ' You are a beggar, Mary,' 
he screamed out in despair, and fell senseless on the 
floor. After he was restored, she came and sat down 
by my side on the sofa, and prayed me to tell her 
all. It was a painful task, I assure you. I shall 
never forget the scene which followed. It was a 
more affecting sight to see the agony of this beauti- 
ful woman, than it would have been to see her die 
a thousand times. I satisfied his creditors at Crock- 
ford's for je33,000 ; and this saved the furniture, 
her horses and carriage, and their house in the coun- 
try. She left London with a broken heart, and is 
now living a retired and miserable life. 

" One would suppose that this would have extin- 
guished the young marquis's passion for play forever ; 
but it had the contrary effect. It became more wild 



32 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and uncontrollable than ever. He came to me, and 
begged me to lend him money again and again. Of 
course I refused him, and for it received his abuse. 
He went through the whole circle of his friends, and 
teased them all for money. Many of them gratified 
him ; but he lost as fast as he borrowed, until he 
could borrow no more ; and before the season was 
over he was expelled from Crockford's and several 
other similar establishments in town, and was seen 
in the lowest and vilest holes in London, gambling 
with every ill-bred fellow who w^ould accept his 
stake for a shilling ! I believe he has not seen his 
wife since they parted. She is ruined as well as 
himself. I saw her a few days ago, and tried to 
restore her former spirits ; but I found it a hopeless 
task. The bloom and joy have all fled from her face, 
and she looks as though twenty years had been add- 
ed to her life — pale, haggard, and desponding. She 
cannot live six months. It is awful to see such a 
brilliant pair, whose prospects one year ago were so 
fair for a long, happy, and honourable life, crushed 
by such a blow. It is terrible ! 

" There are many, very many, who seek refuge 
from remorse, brought on by gambling, in deep de- 
bauchery; some in villany, and some in self-de- 
struction. Their families are sometimes brought to 
pinching want, or condemned to live the rest of their 
days in comparative suffering and obscurity. More 
splendid fortunes are lost at Crockford's than at any 
other place. And yet this Crockford was once a 



ACCOUNT OF CROCKFORD. 33 

small fishmonger, near Temple Bar, as ignorant as 
he was low. He was in the habit of frequenting 
vile places and betting a few shillings. He learned 
by private information that a certain horse at the 
races was to win, and he made a large bet, and gain- 
ed it. Then he purchased a small share in a gam- 
bling bank ; afterward he engaged in a larger estab- 
lishment, which cleared in one season j£200,000. 
Loaded dice and other means of foul play which 
were afterward found in that place by the magis- 
trates, accounted for their success. By cunning, 
villany, and perseverance, he has won his way to 
his present wealth and notoriety. He is still an ex- 
ceedingly illiterate fellow, and speaks in the style of 
a hackney-coachman. He is supreme lord among 
the crowds of noblemen who flock to his club-house ; 
and what can be so humihating as to think that a 
base-born scoundrel like him should make slaves of 
the ancient nobility of the land 1 There is much 
force and truth in what Bulwer says of our nobility : 
' They are more remarkable,' he says, 'for an extrav- 
agant recklessness of money ; for an impatient ar- 
dour for frivolities ; for a headlong passion for the 
caprices, the debaucheries, the absurdities of the day, 
than for any of those prudent and considerate virtues 
which are the offspring of common sense. How few 
of their estates are not deeply mortgaged ! The 
Jews and the merchants (and he might have added 
the gamblers) have their grasp upon more than three 
parts of the property of the peerage.' 



34 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

"This house of Crockford's, and similar places 
in the metropolis, of which, great and small, their 
name is legion, are usually designated by the ap- 
propriate title of ' Hells' : a better name could not 
be found. Not a night passes that these dens 
of iniquity and dissipation are not crowded, from 
Crockford's, where the mad crew play to the tune of 
j6 100,000, and where they go with carriage and liv- 
ery, to the vile and filthy ' hells' in the poorest parts 
of the metropolis, where you see squalid, ragged, 
shirtless wretches, who have begged or stolen one 
more shilling to stake and lose, and then be kicked 
out of a ' hell' in London into the hell of the 
eternal world. 

"The passion for gambling is the worst passion 
that can possibly enter the human heart. I hardly 
ever knew a man who had once yielded to it, to 
break away from the strong temptation. It seems 
to seize upon him with the grasp of death. The 
victim of it is beyond the reach of counsel. It is 
vain to address his judgment, his hopes, or his fears. 
He may be a kind-hearted man by nature, but it 
does no good to talk to him about his wife and 
children : he loves them, perhaps, although this in- 
fernal passion generally annihilates the social affec- 
tions ; but he would take the last crust from his 
child's mouth, and cast him upon the unpitying 
world, sooner than give up the gratification of this 
hellish passion. Why ! it is stated, and probably 
with truth, that the late aiddecamp of Lord Hutch- 



GAMBLING AMONG LADIES. 35 

inson, after having ruined himself by play, cut his 
throat in a fit of despair. It happened, however, 
that his life was saved ; and after some weeks he 
recovered. The first place he went to, after he was 
allowed by his surgeon to go out, was the very 
gaming-house where he had lost his money and 
formed the desperate purpose of destroying himself. 
Mr. Grant, who has paid a good deal of attention 
to this subject, thinks that the amount of money 
which is lost in the different gaming-houses of Lon- 
don cannot be less than ^£8,000,000 a year. I 
have no doubt myself that the sum is much greater. 
But this degrading and horrible passion is not con- 
fined to our sex. It prevails to an enormous extent 
among fashionable ladies ! Many is the husband 
who has been embarrassed most deeply by the cards 
of his wife. 

"In nearly all the fashionable circles this prac- 
tice prevails. And there are cliques of women who 
assemble night after night for no other purpose but 
play, and the wine flashes on the card-table. They 
gamble on till their money is gone ; they pledge 
their jewels, family plate, horses and carriages, to 
the pawnbrokers ; and often the first intimation their 
husbands have of it is from some long-bearded Jew, 
who presents his claim, with the very comforting in- 
telligence that the day of grace is over, and that he 
has now an opportunity of redeeming the property. 
The Jew had received from 50 to 500 per cent, for 
his money. 



36 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" If you can conceive it possible, gaming becomes 
in woman a more absorbing and debasing passion 
than among men. I have known many very pain- 
ful instances of conjugal infidelity and domestic 
quarrels which were occasioned directly by this vice. 
Ladies are blamed more severely, I know, for such 
practices ; but how can men expect anything better 
of their waves when they indulge in the same prac- 
tices themselves,? If there be a passion which turns 
the heart to ashes, and ruins both body and soul in 
a more rapid and fearful manner than any other, it 
is the passion for gaming; as it opens the way to 
every other vice. 

"You will not suppose, from what I have said, 
that this disgraceful passion infects the whole body 
of the nobility. Very many of them are among the 
purest and best men in the world. In virtue, in do- 
mestic fidelity and love ; in accomplishments of mind 
and person, many of the British nobility are not sur- 
passed. But still, all the statements I have made to 
you in regard to their vices are not the less true; 
and the half I have not told you." 

In the midst of our conversation, a dense cloud 
of black smoke in the distance announced that we 
were in the neighbourhood of Birmingham, which 
Burke appropriately called " the great toyshop of 
Europe." Here we stopped nearly an hour. We 
were charged at the refreshment-rooms, for a cold 
slice of beef and a single buttered roll, half a crown 
Csixty-two and a half cents), which reminded me 



INCIDENT AT A TAVERN. 37 

that Englishmen are not always the immaculate 
creatures some would have us suppose. There 
must have been between 250 and 300 persons in 

the hall. Lord requested the company to 

listen for one moment : " Gentlemen," said he, " I find 
that we are most rudely insulted at this house, in 
being called upon to pay half a crown for a cold 
slice and a roll. For one, I will not do it. Not 
because I am unwilling to pa^ any reasonable 
charge, but because it is both unjust and abusive* 
Besides, I do not wish my companion, who is an 
American, nor any other stranger who may be pres- 
ent, to suppose that we do not know when we are 
well treated, or that we will submit to an insult like 
this from our own countrymen. I propose that we 
pay the usual charge for such an entertainment, and 
leave our good will for the house ; or else pay the 
bill this fellow presents, and let the house suffer the 
consequences. Injustice is never to be borne by free 
Englishmen." The name of the speaker was passed 
from mouth to mouth down the hall, and the whole 
company received the speech with loud and tumul- 
tuous applause. In the midst of the uproar the pro- 
prietor of the house made his appearance, to of- 
fer an apology : " Gentlemen and ladies, indeed, 
I am quite mortified that my servant should have 
so far forgotten his instructions as to present such 
a bill. It is too much; indeed, it is quite too 
much. And, since you have been so grossly injured, 
I will dismiss my waiter, .and let you pay what you 
Vol. L— D 



38 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

think proper, begging you most humbly to accept 
this apology, and pardon the mistake ', for it is a 
mistake, gentlemen and ladies." 

" We will accept the apology, sir," answered 
Lord , " and in the most dehcate manner insin- 
uate that it would be well for you to see that your 
guests are not insulted in any such way again ; or 
you may find that it is an unprofitable speculation." 

The mortified proprietor bowed himself out of the 
room after the manner at court, taking care to run 
his back against the door in his passage out in no 
very graceful style ; after which, the whole posse of 
waiters, by their boisterous language addressed to 
each other but intended for the company, gave us 
to understand that they had charged no more than 
they had been instructed to. 

I observe there is a great convenience here in be- 
ing able to charge upon servants the abuses practised 
by their masters : they are the indispensable scape- 
goats for the sins of every establishment. It reminds 
one of paragraphs so often seen in the newspapers, 
in which the poor " printer's devil" receives the 
credit of every literary blunder which the editor, from 
want of brains or some other cause, happens to 
make. 

I have been very much astonished to find the sys- 
tem of petty shaving so extensively carried on in 
England. I had supposed that in this respect Amer- 
ica was pre-eminent ; for it has passed into a prov- 
erb, that in the United States a man can be shaved 



IMPOSITIONS OF SERVANTS. 39 

for nothing. But I think, unless we sharpen up our 
wits, John Bull will bear off the palm. I do not 
now refer to the contemptible custom which every- 
where prevails in England, of compelling you (as an 
Irishman would say) to give voluntarily a piece of 
money to every lazy drone who succeeds, by dint of 
impudence and obsequiousness, in stopping up your 
way, and who presents his bill of charges with an 
air of servility which would degrade a Turkish 
slave. For all travellers who have been in Eng- 
land know that the moment a guest is leaving the 
house, a crowd of creatures flock around him, great- 
er in number, perhaps, than he has at any time seen 
in the establishment, each with his charge ; and the 
aggregate of which amounts to as much or more than 
his bill at the bar. Their charges ! and for what ? 
First of all comes " Boots" with his demand : he 
wishes to be " remembered." You wear laced cloth 
boots, which stand in no particular need of any as- 
sistance from the knight of the brush. But " Boots" 
" really hopes the gentleman will remember him." 
Next comes the " porter, sir, please." His claim is 
based upon carrying your luggage : a small carpet- 
bag which you took in your hand. Next, " waiter, 
sir, please." You look at the gentleman somewhat 
dubiously, and he " hopes you w^ill remember him." 
This you cannot readily do, as you never had the 
honour of seeing him before ; but he remembers i/otc, 
which is all the same to him. And last, but not 
least (for an English chambermaid is no inconsider- 



40 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

able personage — in size), appears the irresistible 
grace of the upper story, and her claim you certainly 
cannot dispute, for she appeals to your gallantry at 
once; and, besides, she has prepared a chamber 
which you never entered, and never will. No, I 
do not refer to this all-prevailing system of insult 
and abuse ; for the revised statutes of English eti- 
quette have legalized these exactions of " loafers" 
and " loaferesses," to use a very expressive Ameri- 
canism. You submit to these ancient (and, of course, 
venerable) customs of England, as you do to the 
everlasting drizzling of its climate, although you 
know that these beggars are importuning for their 
masters, who, in most instances, either directly or in- 
directly, pocket the money you give them. It is an 
ingenious way of filching from the traveller more 
than even an English landlord has the face to ask 
for his frequently wretched accommodations. 

But I only speak of this incidentally. I allude to 
the extravagant charges for everything one buys or 
gets done, without a previous bargain ; and to the cus- 
tom, which is so common, of imposing upon stran- 
gers and foreigners expenses which even an Eng- 
lishman will not submit to, baptized as he is into 
abuses and taxation from his baptismal font to his 
taxed sepulchre. I will not complain, however ; for 
the pleasure of visiting this beautiful land, of walk- 
ing over the ground on which have fallen the foot- 
steps of the illustrious of past ages, will more than 
compensate for the inconveniences of the journey. 



BIRMINGHAM. 41 

But I loill say that such annoyances render one's 
visit not the more agreeable. 

After lunch we had time for a walk of a mile or 
two through the town. " This must be an odious 
place to live in, my lord." 

" Pardon me. Will you say sir ? It is very 
pleasant, when we meet with Americans, all of whom 
are heirs apparent to the throne, to lay aside our 
titles: will you say sir?" 

" Most certainly, sir." 

" Ah ! that's it — thank you : you are very kind. 
Yes, this Birmingham is really a dreadful place. 
One breathes nothing here but coal smoke : it's al- 
most enough to make one a native of Newcastle to 
live in Birmingham. And then you can hear nothing, 
from the beginning to the end of the year, but the in- 
fernal rumbling of machinery. But I am wrong ; 
for I am told that Birmingham has the largest organ 
in the world, except the great organ at Harlaem. 
Many of the most splendid articles of plate in the 
kingdom are made here. But I conclude it is the 
residence of few except those who are drawn to- 
gether for purposes of business." 

I inquired what were the principal articles of man- 
ufacture in the town. " I have in my pocket," he 
answered, " a paper which contains an enumeration 
by Mr. Stevenson of the more important, as well as 
some of the curious, minute, and almost endless vari- 
ety of articles made at Birmingham. Here they are : 

" ' Files, guns, pocket-books, gilt toys and jewel- 
D2 



4s GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ry, watch chains and keys, gunlock filer, plated 
goods, fire-irons, awl-blades, brass-founder, saw and 
edge-tools, lock and latch maker, swords, bits, but- 
tons, snuffers, bone and ivory toys, cut sprigs, die- 
sinker, carriage lamps, harness plater, steel chains, 
cast nails, thimbles, braces, cabinet cases, inkstands, 
ferrules, compasses, ivory combs, gun polisher, spec- 
tacles, steel toys, pearl buttons, stamper and piercer, 
stirrups, packing boxes, japan wares, planes, sword- 
hilts, casting pots, spring latchets, gold-hand manu- 
facturer, paper toys, chaser, saddlers' brass-founder, 
round bolt and chafing-dish maker, scalebeam, steel- 
yard, and screw-plate maker, bridle cutter, brass nails 
and curtain-rings, needles, vice maker, clock-dial 
painter, curry-combs, rule maker, link buttons, wire- 
drawer, scabbards, iron spoons, spade-tree maker, 
fork maker, looking-glass, toy and army button ma- 
ker, paper-box turner, mouse-traps, sandpaper, gun- 
stocker, parchment maker, last and boot-tree maker, 
glass grinders, anvils, braziers' tools, gun-furniture 
filer, pendant maker, ring turner, bellows, gun finish- 
er, saddle-tree maker, hammers, carpenters' and shoe- 
makers' tools, brass-cock founder, hand-whip mount- 
er, pearl and hair worker, coach-harness forger, 
button-shank maker, patten-ties, gimlets, tea-urns, 
medals and coins, copying machines, pneumatic ap- 
paratus, ramrod and chain maker, gun-case maker, 
smiths' bellows'-pipe maker, coffin nails, curtain- 
rings, glass beads, engine cutter, scalebeams, wood- 
screw maker bright engraver, putty maker, and 



MANUFACTURES OF BIRMINGHAM. 43 

enamel-box maker, horse, dog, and negro collar, 
fetter, and dog-lock maker, pencil-case maker, glass 
stainer, paper stainer, bone-mould turner, tortoise- 
shell-box and toothpick-case maker, warming pans, 
fishing tackle, cruet frames, picture frames, bayonets, 
malt-mills, hinges, leather and horn powder flasks, 
corkscrews, gun flints, steel keys and combs, glass 
buttons, bed and coach screw maker, umbrella-fur- 
niture maker, paper-mould maker, button solderer, 
paper spectacle-case maker, tin nail and rivet ma- 
ker, burnisher of toys, shagreen and morocco case 
maker, seal manufacturer, horn spoons and but- 
tons, Ime maker, ladies' slippers, stirrup maker, 
curb maker, spur and rowel maker, powder flasks, 
sticks and rods for angling, sleeve buttons, clock 
hands, brass mouldings, augers, cock-heel maker, 
candle moulds, teapots, case-plate maker, fihgree- 
worker, coach-spring manufacturer, watch key and 
glass maker, patten rings, thong maker, varnish 
maker, dog and cart chain maker, printing presses, 
pins, buckle chaser, jacks, military feathers, barom- 
eters, morocco decanters and cruet stands, pack- 
ing needles, horn lanterns, buckle-ring forger, toy- 
watch maker, glass eyes for dolls, mortise and rim 
locksmith, button-card cutter, iron-drawer, gridiron 
and round bolt maker, spades, dials, gilt ring ma- 
ker, steel box, spectacle-case, and gun-charger ma- 
ker, pocket-lock maker, lamp manufacturer, lead 
toys, stock sinker, glass-house-mould maker, cast- 
ing-mould maker, snuffboxes, &c., &c., &c., &c.' 



44 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" But this enumeration is far from complete. Per- 
haps, of all these articles, firearms are the most im- 
portant. It appears from our official returns, that 
from 1804 to 1818, about 5,000,000 of different 
kinds of arms were furnished on account of govern- 
ment and of the private trade. The largest manu- 
facture of steam engines in the world is carried on 
at Soho, which is in the immediate neighbourhood 
of Birmingham. The population in 1831 was 
147,000." 

We soon retraced our steps, and were again on 
the road to London. The environs of Birmingham 
on the south and east are quite beautiful. We pass- 
ed within a few miles of Coventry, where, in 1566, 
the unfortunate Queen of Scots was imprisoned by 
the jealous and haughty Elizabeth, who said that 
" no Catholic ought to live out half his days j" Ken- 
ilworth and its ruins, around which the genius of 
Scott has thrown such charms; Warwick Castle, 
which is the most perfect specimen of a feudal for- 
tress in the kingdom. Several times we crossed the 
quiet Avon, which flows through green meadows 
and verdure-crowned hills. Those waters are more 
sacred to us than the classic fountains of Greece; 
and it was very painful to pass so near Stratford 
without seeing the grave of Shakspeare. 

" We are very proud of the Great Poet," said 
Lord . " I have sometimes wished that Amer- 
icans could boast of such a man." " Well, really, 
sir," I replied, " I think Americans have as much to 



STRATFORD-UPON-AVON. 45 

do with Shakspeare as any men in the world ; we 
certainly read him as much as you do ; and you must 
remember that Shakspeare wrote and died before 
our forefathers left this country. He played and 
wrote for our common ancestors, and together they 
worshipped his genius j and since the year 1620 they 
have read and worshipped him alike, only in differ- 
ent countries. Besides, if you will pardon me, my 
lord, I think an Irishman need not be very much 
troubled because Americans have no Shakspeare : 
pray tell me if the Saxon blood of Shakspeare flows 
very extensively through the veins of Erin ?" 

" That is one of your ingenious 'Yankee notions,' 
I will venture to say. But, upon my soul, sir, I 
must confess I never thought of the matter in just 
that light before. You are right ; he is just as much 
your Shakspeare as England's, and considerably 
more than Ireland's." 

On our right, a few miles from the line, and about 
55 from London, stands the Olney church, where 
the good John Newton preached ; and a mile from 
it is still pointed out the quiet retreat of Cowper, and 
his affectionate friend, Mrs. Unwin ; with the garden 
and the favourite seat of the poet in a rude bower. 
Poor Cowper ! Thou art in a " brighter bower" now, 
where the dark clouds of gloom shall never gather 
around thy spirit again. 

Ten miles from London we passed Harrow-on-the- 
Hill. Who has not heard of the Harrow School ? 
The church is a spacious structure, with a tower and 



46 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

lofty spire, and stands on one of the highest hills in 
Middlesex. This church is associated with what 
some men call a witty saying of Charles II., who 
closed a theological controversy by asserting that 
the church of Harrow-on-the-Hill must be the " Vis- 
ible Church j" for it could be seen from the whole 
surrounding country. 

Before we reached the end of our journey we 
passed under the grand tunnel, nearly a mile in 
length, which brought us to the environs of the 
metropolis. Here I parted from my noble feJiow- 
traveller, asking his permission to make our conver- 
sation public, if I should desire, suppressing all the 
names of parties concerned, where it was necessaiy. 
This permission was cheerfully given. 

But I must bring this long letter to a close. I shall 
now write to you often, and describe men and things 
as I see them. I do not flatter myself that I shall 
be so fortunate as to avoid all those mistakes and er- 
rors of judgment into which travellers so commonly 
fctU. But I shall be careful in stating my facts, and 
try to communicate to you faithfully the impres- 
sions which are made upon my own mind. It is my 
purpose to examine things for myself. I shall not 
forget the advice of an old English author to his son 
when he was going abroad : " Young man, when 
thou goest abroad, keep all thine ears and thine 
eyes open, and thy tongue between thy teeth" (this 
will be the most difficult part of the advice to follow) ; 
*' adopt no conclusion hastily j for travellers and ci- 



WHERE IS THE WRONG ? 47 

cerones are often wrong. Depend on thine own ob- 
servation ; spy out abuses and oppressions of every 
name : be candid ; be truthful ; and when thou dost 
return, I charge thee before God, tell us an honest 
story." 

I shall contemplate the society and institutions of 
England with the eye of a Republican. This I 
must do. Every American knows that, in a coun- 
try w:hich presents such a striking contrast of prince- 
ly wealth and abject poverty, of lordly power and 
cringing servility, as the traveller discovers in Eng- 
land, there must be something radically wrong some- 
where. Where the wrong exists I will not pretend 
to-uetermine, until my own observations shall satisfy 
me. There are many glorious things in England. 
It abounds in associations, which to us are greatly 
enriched by their connexion with our paternal his- 
tory. In stepping upon its green shores, I felt like a 
wanderer returned to the home of his fathers. 
Faithfully yours, 



London, May — , 1841. . 

Dear , 

My first acquaintance in the metropolis I formed 
under peculiar circumstances. This morning, before 
breakfast, as I was turning a corner in the hall, un- 
der rapid motion, I came in contact with a gentle- 
man who was advancing as fast towards me, and 



48 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the shock was so violent that it threw us both upon 
the floor. Our hats went in one direction, our canes 
in another, and our persons were displayed at full 
length upon the carpet, very much to the amusement 
of the chamber-maid, who had the impudence to 
laugh at our misfortune. When I had recovered my 
senses, so as to ascertain what had happened, I 
turned to the gentleman and remarked, that if he 
would have the goodness to wait till I had more 
leisurely taken my bearings, I would make all prop- 
er apologies ; but that just at present I felt more in- 
clined to look after myself, to know to what extent 
I had been knocked to pieces by the concussion. 
" And I, sir," he replied, as he rose up far enough to 
take a seat upon the floor, " should like the same 
privilege. I declare for it, sir, that shock was wor- 
thy a tournament ground. I'll exchange cards with 
you if you please, sir, and we may hope that our ac- 
quaintance may be prosecuted in a more agreeable 
manner." 

I have many times since blessed the good fortune 
which brought us together. Nothing could have 
happened better; We gathered up our goods and 
chattels, which lay dispersed about the hall, and 
breakfasted in company. Before we rose from the 
table, each had told his story, and felt on terms of 
intimacy. "Now," said Captain Manners (this is 
not the real name), " you are anxious to see London, 
and I have nothing to do but show it to you. I be- 
lieve I am familiar with almost every part of the me- 



GLANCE A.T LONDON. 49 

tropolis; for I have passed the last ten years here, 
and I do not know that I was ever tired of wander- 
ing round London. It is a glorious place : nothing 
would tempt me to live anywhere else. I can tell 
you a thousand things about it which I think you 
will not be able to find in the books ; and if you 
are a good walker, we will set out, and a walk of 
twenty or thirty miles will give you a general idea 
of this immense city." 

We turned down into Cheapside, St. Paul's 
Churchyard, Ludgate Hill, and Fleet-street (which 
is all one great thoroughfare under different names), 
and stopped at Cruchley's shop, where we obtained 
his fine pocket map, with which a stranger may pass 
through every part of London without asking his 
way. The crowd which is continually pouring, like 
a rushing torrent, through the great thoroughfares of 
the metropolis, can scarcely be conceived of, until 
one mingles in it. We were in the midst of a dense 
mass of human beings, each of whom seemed to be 
bent upon his own business with so much earnest- 
ness as to have no care for the thousands who were 
drifting by ; and all hurrying on with that restless 
gait with which people walk in large cities ; care- 
less of the occupations, the joys, or the sorrows of 
all but themselves. Yes, I was in London, the 
largest city in the world, where there are nearly as 
many people crowded together into an arena of 
14,000 square acres, as there are in the whole city 
and state of New- York ; a city whose foundations 
Vol,. T.—E 



50 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

were laid so long ago as when Paul was preaching 
on Mars Hill : where the Romans, the Britons, the 
Saxons, the Danes, and the Normans have come, 
one after another, to erect their thrones and pass 
away. We stood on Waterloo Bridge, and looked 
down upon the Thames, which has rolled his cur- 
rent changelessly along, while hundreds of success- 
ive generations have come and gone upon its banks. 
It is a narrow, turbid stream ; and when the tide, 
which rises very high, is down, the shores are in- 
tolerably filthy, composing a grand arena of mud, 
which makes one wish that the Ohio could once roll 
her waters through the channel of old Thames, and 
show him how pure they would leave his banks. 
But some philosophers have said that utility is one 
element of beauty ; and, if so, the Thames is cer- 
tainly a beautiful stream ; for London would do 
but poorly without this little river. The paddy re- 
marked of his friend who lost his head in the rebel- 
lion, that although his head was of no great value 
to others, it was " a sore loss to himself." To an 
American, the Thames seems like a mere eel-creek ; 
but it is, nevertheless, the life-blood of London. On 
the bosom of this river, insignificant as it may seem, 
rides no inconsiderable proportion of the commercial 
wealth of the world. It is spanned by six stately 
bridges, built of stone or iron. They are all grand 
structures, and present a fine view from the water, 
with the crowds which continually throng them. 
Their order, commencing at the west, is Vauxhall, 



LONDON BRIDGES. 61 

■which is of cast iron, with 9 arches, each span be- 
ing 78 feet, and completed in 1816, at a cost of 
$720,000. Westminster is built of stone, of 5 
arches, 1223 feet in length, completed in 1750, and 
cost $1,870,000. Waterloo is a grand structure of 
granite, with 9 arches, 1242 feet in length, and was 
opened June 18th, 1817, the anniversary of the 
battle of Waterloo. Blackfriars is built of stone, 
1000 feet in length, has 9 arches, and was comple- 
ted in 1768, at an expense of $733,000. South- 
wark is a cast-iron bridge of only 3 arches, and was 
finished in 1819. The middle arch is the largest in 
the world, being 240 feet; the side arches are 210. 
Many single castings in this bridge weigh ten tons 
each ; and the whole weight of the iron is said to 
exceed 5308 tons. It is opposite Guild Hall, the 
centre of the old city of London, and cost $3,840,000. 
But the New London is by far the most magnifi- 
cent of all these noble works. A few years ago the 
Old London Bridge, which had borne the moving 
stream of mortals, beasts, and carriages upon its 
back for hundreds of years, gave place to this stu- 
pendous structure. It is built of Scotland granite, 
and rests upon five arches. It cost the enormous sum 
of $7,500,000 : nearly as much as the grand Erie 
Canal, which is 363 miles long. Although the Lon- 
don Bridge forms the separation between the river 
and the sea navigation, and no vessel with stand 
ing masts can go above it, yet it is but a little be- 
low the centre of the metropolis. It is supposed to 



62 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

be the most crowded thoroughfare in the world. 
More than one hundred and fifty thousand people, 
it is estimated, pass it daily. Its architecture is per- 
fect, and it will stand until it is shaken down by some 
great convulsion, or decays by the lapse of ages. 

As the Thames enters London from the west, at 
Old Chelsea, it bends towards the north, and con- 
tinues in this direction for about two miles ; then it 
passes Whitehall, and turns away to the east, pene- 
trating in that direction the heart of the metropolis. 
It divides London into two parts, although by far 
the larger part lies on the north side. London is 
about 60 miles from the sea, occupying a gentle 
slope on the north side of the river, with an almost 
uniform flat surface on its southern side. Considered 
as the capital of the British empire, it includes not 
only the old city and its liberties, but Westminster, 
Southwark, and many villages, both in Middlesex 
and Surry. Its extent from east to west is about 
eight miles, and its breadth from north to south is 
nearly five. There are five grand popular divisions 
of London. " The West End," which consists of 
numerous handsome squares and streets, occupied by 
the town houses of the nobility and gentry, and the 
most fashionable shops. It is the great arena of 
wealth, folly, and splendid sin. The parks, gardens, 
squares, and streets of this part of the town probably 
exceed everything else of the kind throughout the 
world. " The City" includes the central and most 
ancient division of the metropolis. It was once 
surrounded by a strong wall, which was defended 



DIVISIONS OF LONDON. 53 

by fifteen towers and bastions of Roman masonry. 
It is the emporium of commerce and of business of 
every description, and is occupied by shops, ware- 
houses, public offices, and the houses of tradesmen 
and others connected with them. " The East End" 
bears no greater resemblance to the West End than 
a desert to a green field. Its inhabitants are devo- 
ted to commerce, to ship-building, and to every col- 
lateral branch connected with merchandise. Some 
portions of it embrace a vast amount of extreme 
poverty and wretchedness. 

" SouTHWARK," and the whole of the southern bank 
of the Thames, from Deptford to Lambeth, bears some 
resemblance to the " Eas-t End" of the town, beinp" 
occupied principally by persons engaged in commer- 
cial affairs. But in one respect it differs from every 
other part of London ; it abounds with numerous 
manufactories : iron-foundries, glasshouses, soap- 
boiling and dye houses, shot and hat manufactorie, 
and many other similar establishments. It is chiefly ^ 
occupied by workmen and others of the lower classes. 
" Westminster" contains the palace, the Abbey, 
the parks, the houses of Parliament, the courts of 
justice, an J the various offices connected with gov- 
ernment. Says Leigh, in his work on London, " The 
increase in the size and population of the British 
metropolis within a few years is truly amazing. It 
is no unusual event to meet in society persons who 
recollect those portions of what must now be called 
♦.he metropolis, when they were nothing but fields 
E2 



54 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

or swamps." There are some parts of London 
vthich have grown as rapidly as our own cities at 
the West. 

There are two grand arteries which run through 
the metropohs from east to west. The most south- 
ern of these, for the greater part of the way, is with- 
in a quarter of a mile of the Thames. It commences 
at St. James's Palace, in Pall Mall, and is continued 
through the Strand, Fleet-street, St. Paul's, Wat- 
ling-street, Cannon-street, and East Cheap, to the 
Tower. The northern line commences at Bayswa- 
ter, and passes through Oxford-street, Holborn, Skin- 
ner, Newgate, Cheapside, Cornhill, Leadenhall, and 
White Chapel, to Mile End, a distance of about sev- 
en miles; and the entire course is more densely pop- 
ulated than any portion of New York. These great 
avenues run nearly parallel to each other, and in no 
part of London can a stranger be far distant from 
one or the other of them. At this time London is 
computed to contain upward of 80 squares, and 
10,000 streets, lanes, rows, places, courts, &c., and 
the number of houses exceeds 200,000. 

" You will not have been long in London," Cap- 
tain Manners remarked, as we made an inquiry 
of one of the policemen, " without perceiving the 
immense advantages of this metropolitan police 
It is probably the most efficient police in Europe. 
Property and life are as secure here, I suppose, as 
in any part of the world. I have walked thousands 
of miles at night through the streets and lanes of 
London, and yet I never was assaulted or treated in 



MISERY IN LONDON. 55 

a rude manner but once, and then I called a police- 
man to my aid in less than a minute." 

We have to-day taken a view of each great sec- 
tion of London, from the scenes of unbounded opu- 
lence and fashion of the West End, to the poverty- 
stricken and squalid abodes of Spitalfields. I have 
seen more magnificence and display than I ever 
wish to see in ray own country, and more wretched- 
ness than I ever supposed could exist in " merrie 
England." There is something very painful in the 
contemplation of a state of society so highly arti- 
ficial. I love the spirit of American democracy bet- 
ter than ever. I love the interminable woods and 
prairies, which stretch away towards the shores of 
the Pacific, offering a home to the poor, oppressed, 
taxed, degraded lower classes of Great Britain. 
What motive, thought I, as I to-day passed through 
some of the dark lanes of Spitalfields, what motive 
have the ignorant and depressed multitudes who in- 
habit such abodes as these, for exertion? What 
hope have they that they will ever know what it is 
to own one foot of the earth, and call it their ow^n 
home 1 

" Half the time," said my companion, " they can- 
not find employment; and when they can, what do 
they get for their labour? Not enough to satisfy 
the simplest wants of nature! They and their 
wives and children may work hard all the time, 
and yet not be able to get a compensation for it 
sufficient to procure any of the means of social or 
moral elevation. In England, the poor must labour 



56 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

or starve ; and they must let their employers fix tht 
price of their labour; and although some trades 
and employments receive good wages, yet the pro- 
portion of these to the whole is very small. I nev- 
er was so much affected by the sufferings of the la- 
bouring classes in England until I returned from a 
residence of eighteen months in the United States ; 
and I declare to you that there is more wretchedness 
and pinching poverty, more disgusting and heart- 
sickening degradation here, in this lane in Spital- 
fields, than I saw during the whole of my residence 
in the United States. The contrast between the 
working classes of this country and yours struck me 
very forcibly when I landed in America ; and more 
so, if possible, when I returned. I do not pretend 
to meddle much with politics ; but I have not yet 
been able to rid myself of the painful conviction, 
that oppression and misrule have produced very much 
of this suffering and vice. For it is universally 
acknowledged, I think, that England can maintain 
even a much larger population than she now does, 
if she will remove the heavy burdens which the 
government and aristocracy have imposed upon the 
people. But when they will do this no one can tell." 
I feel to-night as I have sometimes felt after 
awaking from a feverish dream, in which an ideal 
world of Oriental magnificence and of abject suffer- 
ing had floated before my fancy, in one bewildering 
spectacle. But good-night. 

Faithfully yours, 



VISIT TO WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 57 



London, June — , 1840. 

Dear , 

" Well," said Captain Manners, as we sat at the 
breakfast-table this morning, " what will you see to- 
day V Westminster Abbey, I replied. " Capi- 
tal," rejoined the captain : " I've been to the old 
Abbey perhaps a thousand and one times ; but you 
could not have named a place I should like so well 
to visit this morning. It is a fine old pile, and many 
a glorious legend is told about it, too ; which may 
or may not be true : I am sure I don't care which, 
for I always liked a time-honoured fiction better 
than a dry modern fact." 

We walked along through Westminster, and it 
brought a new joy over my heart when I saw the 
gray towers of the old Abbey rising above the stately 
elms of St. James's Park. The sight of the Abbey 
in the distance, with its deep-stained windows, its 
pointed turrets and pinnacles, and the thoughts they 
awaken, is worth a voyage to Europe. Sometimes, 
you know, the happiness of a lifetime seems crowd- 
ed into the short space of a few moments j a sudden 
thrill of delight goes through the heart, which will 
not be forgotten in long years. "I see," said my 
companion, " the flush of excitement on your face," 
as we stopped to catch a glimpse of the western 
towers through the trees : "I wish from my, heart I 
was now, like you, approaching the Abbey for the 



68 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

first time. If you will excuse a little romance, I 
think there is a striking analogy between the love 
we feel for the Abbey and for a friend : it loses its 
freshness when the spring season is gone ; but I have 
never become so familiar with this ancient pile as 
not to feel when I come here as I feel nowhere else. 
I must tell you a word about its history. 

" The Abbey is said to have been founded by Lu- 
cius, the first Christian King of Britain, as a burial- 
place for himself and his race. During the persecu- 
tion of the Emperor Dioclesian, it was converted in- 
to a temple to Apollo, and the heathen worship of 
Rome set up. But Sebert, king of the East Sax- 
ons, demolished it ; declaring, as he threw down its 
walls, that he would not leave one stone upon an- 
other of a temple where heathen gods had been 
worshipped ; and erected a church to the honour of 
God and St. Peter in its place. St. Augustine had 
baptized Sebert and his beautiful Queen Ethelgoda, 
and consecrated Mellitus (a Roman abbot sent to 
Britain by Pope Gregory) Bishop of London. Se- 
bert had freely expended his treasures upon the Ab- 
bey, and, for those times, raised a gorgeous structure. 

" The night preceding the day appointed for its 
consecration had thrown its shadows over the city, 
and its inhabitants were still in profound sleep, all 
save a fisherman, who was just preparing to cast his 
net into the Thames, which flows within a stone's 
throw of the Abbey walls. As he was loosing his 
boat from the shore, some one called to him from 



COJJSECRATION OF THE ABBEY. 59 

the opposite side of the river to be ferried across. 
The fisherman afterward remarked that there was 
something very peculiar in his voice, or he could not 
say that he should have left his net. But he obeyed 
the summons. He did not know who the stranger 
could be, but there was something celestial in his ap- 
pearance ; and the light of his countenance cast a 
bright sheen upon the flowing water. When the 
boat touched the western bank the stranger passed 
up to the Abbey, and the moment he reached it the 
doors opened of their own accord, and a bright 
light illumined every part of the building. A com- 
pany of angels descended from heaven, and flocked 
around the portal. Music from seraphs' harps float- 
ed on the midnight air, and odours more delicious 
than ever perfumed the earth before. The honest 
fisherman gazed on the pageant with awe and ad- 
miration. Ever and anon, as some sweet strain 
broke forth from the church, and swelled up to 
heaven, it was answered by louder and richer strains. 
The radiance became brighter, and the anthems so 
glorious that it seemed like the palace of an arch- 
angel welcoming the redeemed home to heaven ! 
As the day light broke in the east the next morning, 
the lights faded, the music slowly died away, and 
the stranger who had crossed the river in the fisher- 
man's boat was seen ascending to heaven, with the 
angels at his side. 

" Strange reports of what he had seen were circu- 
lated by the fisherman through London, and at the 



60 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

time appointed for the cjonsecration, the white-robed 
Mellitus, with his ghostly brethren, led the expect- 
ant multitude to the church. 

"No sooner had the bishop thrown open the doors, 
than they saw enough to confirm the truth of every- 
thing the honest fisherman had said. Frankincense 
still lingered in the air ; twelve splendid tapers were 
still burning upon as many golden crosses before the 
altar; the walls were anointed in twelve places 
with holy oil ; and the name of the Trinity in He- 
brew was inscribed upon the pavement. ' Can it 
be V ' Yes,' exclaimed the good bishop ; ' Heaven 
has accepted the offering ; God has blessed us ; and 
St. Peter has been here with his attendant angels to 
consecrate our temple.' 

" Till the time of Edward the Confessor, the first 
Abbey remained exposed to the sacrilegious fury of 
the times. At last it fell to decay, and that monarch 
rebuilt it upon a singular occasion. He had made 
a vow to the Blessed Virgin during his exile, that 
if he should ever be restored to the kingdom of his 
forefathers, he would go on a pilgrimage to the tomb 
of St. Peter ; and being once more firmly seated on 
his throne, he bethought himself of his vow, and 
prepared to set out on his pilgrimage. But his sub- 
jects gathered round his palace, and besought him 
not to leave them. They addressed a petition to his 
holiness the pope, who granted him a dispensation 
from his vow, on the condition that he should re- 
build Westminster Abbey. The offer was joyfully 



INTERMENT IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 61 

accepted, and the monarch devoted a full tithe of 
all his possessions to the pious work. Shortly the 
Abbey rose from its ruins for the third time, and more 
beautiful than ever. 

" The king was buried in one of the chapels of the 
Abbey, and his shrine is still to be seen. In the 
revolutionary days of England, the shrine itself was 
plundered, but his body has been suffered to rest in 
peace there to this day. The Abbey is a vast repos- 
itory of tombs, in which the progress of sculpture 
can be followed for nearly a thousand years. You 
can here see traces of the rude Saxon chisel in the 
early ages, when poetry, just struggling into exist- 
ence, sought to perpetuate the deeds of the pious 
upon the enduring marble ; and the Gothic archi- 
tecture in all its stages, from its first efforts to the 
perfection of florid beauty in the times of Elizabeth. 
For several centuries none but kings, saints, and the 
founders of churches were thought worthy to be 
interred in this house of God. Nobles and chief- 
tains were satisfied if they could but sleep beneath 
the shadow of this temple ; while the common peo- 
ple did not expect anything better than an inter- 
ment in unconsecrated ground. In course of time 
the noble and the learned had the privilege of burial 
in the Abbey gradually extended to them ; but it 
was considered a mark of the highest distinction to 
be permitted to rest in so holy a place. 

" During the stormy days of Cromwell, few monu- 
ments were anywhere erected. It was an age of 

Vol. L— F 



( 



63 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

destruction, and the gray forms of oppression and 
power fell before the advance of the people. In- 
stead of erecting new monuments, old tombs, where 
slept the illustrious dead, were defaced, and shrines 
were plundered of their ornaments and treasures. 
After the restoration of the Stuarts (which was a 
darker day for the liberties of England than any she 
had seen under the great Cromwell) the triumph of 
wealth and dissoluteness began. The age of sim- 
plicity, of stern and bold primitive character, was 
past. The Enghsh people were yet too barbarous 
to enter fully into the wise policy of Cromwell : he 
achieved their liberty at a great price, but they were 
not yet prepared to receive and preserve it, or they 
never would have let Charles II. ascend the throne. 
" Wealth now became a passport to distinction du- 
ring life, and the opulent, who had never rendered 
any service to humanity which would cause their 
/ names to be remembered, were determined that the 
^ marble at least should perpetuate their fame. But 
^ it seems to be an unalterable law of Providence, 
^ that no man shall long be remembered with rever- 
ence by a race whom he has never benefited ; and 
it is well that it is so. This world is not so sadly 
out of joint as to honour those men long who have 
not rendered it some signal service. 

"At the period of which I speak almost every 
church began to be lined with tablets and crowded 
w^ith monuments. You can hardly enter an old 
English church that does not abound in tombs and 



AN AGREEABLE COMPANION. 63 

shrines. The Abbey walls were soon covered with 
tablets and inscriptions, and it became the first object 
in life, and the last hope in death, that the name 
should live in marble after the body was turned to 
dust. We shall pass carelessly by the great mass 
of inscriptions ; but there are names here we must 
read — names which will be known and honoured 
when the walls of old Westminster have gone to 
decay. No, I shall never tire of wandering around 
such old temples ; and I love to associate with them 
all the stories tradition has handed down to us from 
other times." 

I could not have found a more agreeable com- 
panion than Captain Manners. " He is not," in the 
fine language of Dickens, " one of those rough spirits 
who would strip fair Truth of every little shadowy 
vestment in which time and teeming fancies love to 
array her; and some of which become her pleas-, 
antly enough, serving, like the waters of her well, 
to add new graces to the charms they half conceal 
and half suggest, and to awaken interest and per- 
suit rather than langour and indifference ; as, unlike 
this stern and obdurate class, he loved to see the 
goddess crowned with those garlands of wild flow- 
ers which tradition weaves for her gentle wearing, 
and which are often freshest in their homeliest shapes. 
He trod with a light step, and bore with a light hand 
upon the dust of centuries ; unwilling to demolish 
any of the airy shrines that had been raised above 
it, if one good feeling or affection of the human 



64 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

heart were hiding thereabout. Thus, in the case of 
an ancient coffin of rough stone, supposed for many 
generations to contain the bones of a certain baron, 
who, after ravaging with cut and thrust, and plun- 
der in foreign lands, came back with a penitent and 
sorrowing heart to die at home ; but which had been 
lately shown by learned antiquaries to be no such 
thing, as the baron in question (so they contended) 
had died hard in battle, gnashing his teeth and cur- 
sing with his latest breath. He stoutly maintained 
that the old tale was the true one ; that the baron 
repented him of the evil ; had done great charities, 
and meekly given up the ghost ; and that, if baron 
ever went to heaven, that baron was then at peace. 
In like manner, when the aforesaid antiquaries did 
argue and contend that a certain secret vault was not 
the tomb of a gray-haired lady who had been hang- 
ed and drawn and quartered by glorious Queen Bess 
for succouring a wretched priest who fainted of thirst 
and hunger at her door, he did solemnly maintain 
against all comers, that the church was hallowed by 
said poor lady's ashes ; that her remains had been 
collected in the night from four of the city's gates, 
and thither in secret brought, and there deposited ; 
and he did farther (being highly excited at such 
times) deny the glory of Queen Bess, and assert the 
unmeasurably greater glory of the meanest woman in 
the realm, who had a merciful and a tender heart." 
I love to wander with such a companion round 
the old structures of England ; listen to the wild le- 
gends he tells, and yield the heart up to the control of 



shakspeare's monument. 65 

associations that are linked with all the remem- 
brances of childhood, and all that is interesting in 
history. 

We entered the Abbey through the southern tran- 
sept, denominated the " Poets' Corner ;" and Cap- 
tain Manners, with a delicacy which none but a 
cultivated mind ever displays, strolled off with the 
old verger to a distant part of the Abbey, saying, " I 
will do by you as I should like to be done by." Who 
has not sometimes felt it a luxury to be alone ? 

I think the eye of any man, in whose veins the 
Anglo-Saxon blood flows, and who learned to speak 
the Anglo-Saxon tongue when he was a child, will 
first of all, as he enters the " Poets' Corner," seek 
the monument of SHAKSPEARE. And when he 
sees the tablet of the great poet, and stands where 
he so often stood, he will feel that it is a crisis in his 
life. Said Pope, who was one of the committee to 
'tvhom Britain gave the charge of erecting this mon- 
ument, as he was asked to write an inscription, " No ! 
I cannot write it. Let us have some of his own 
lines. No other man's genius is worthy to record 
his fame. Let us say nothing : we cannot praise 
Shakspeare !" With great taste and judgment, they 
engraved upon ap open scroll which forms a part 
of the tablet, these celebrated lines : 

*' The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve, 
And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
Leave not a wreck behind." 

F2 



66 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

This is not only sublime, but true. There is an hour 
coming when every temple on earth shall be shaken 
to its foundations, and the walls of Westminster shall 
feel the universal shock. 

What can a monument do for Shakspeare 1 It 
seems strange, but it is nevertheless true, that the 
age which produces such a man never knows fully 
what it has produced. His own generation cannot 
do him justice. While he is walking in flesh among 
his fellows, they little know of the sacredness of 
such a gift from Heaven. When after generations 
have read his words, each leaving a tribute of more 
exalted admiration for his genius, and entering with 
a warmer feeling into his spirit, leaving in every 
book they write, and on every monument they raise 
to his memory, one more tribute of devotion — then 
it is that the world begins to know what kind of a 
being the great man was. This reminds us of a cus- 
tom among the simple, but proud American Indians : 
they come, one after another, on pilgrimages from 
the far West, whither our injustice has driven them, 
each to cast a stone upon the spot where tradition 
says a great sachem of their tribe lies buried, and in 
time the monument becomes a mountain. 

Did Sir Thomas Lucy send ^hakspeare to the 
treadmill ? This Lucy's fame will be imperishable, 
from being associated with that of the youthful Deer 
Stealer of Stratford. How has it been with great 
souls in all ages 1 Dante was sent forth from his 
country into banishment : his home, house, and gar- 



TRIALS OF GENIUS. 67 

dens sold by the government. They say, too, that 
there is still to be seen in the archr^'es of Florence, a 
record which doomed Dante, wheresoever taken, to 
be burned alive ! 

Did not blind old Homer beg his bread, and sing 
for a crust at the gates of half a score of cities, 
which afterward fought for the honour of having 
given him birth ? No home for Homer or Dante in 
this world. But this is easy to be understood. 
They were not fallen far enough from the empyrean 
of God's first creation, to converse with the herd of 
mortals. They were too great to be understood — 
made poor companions for the rest of the world. 
Once Dante (so say Florentine books) spent an 
evening in the brilliant halls of Delia Scala, where 
buffoons were playing their monkey tricks for the 
amusement of courtiers. Said the brainless Delia 
Scala, addressing himself to Dante, " How is it that 
these fools can do so much to amuse the court, while 
you, a wise man, can do nothing of the sort : this is 
all very strange." " No," said the indignant Dante, 
" it is not strange, if you think of the old proverb, 
like to like." 

It is one of the mysterious but wise arrangements 
of Heaven, that such great minds must battle, like 
the mountain oak, with storms : naturalists tell us 
that while the branches are striving with the winds, 
the roots are striking deeper into the earth. 

The world is sure to do justice at last to every man : 
if the mass of rannkind are forgotten, it is because 



68 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

they have no claim to be remembered; and if the 
ambitious, the selfish, the cruel are feared and court- 
ed by the men of their own times, posterity will re- 
verse the decision. 

It might not have been safe to have called Nero a 
bloody monster while he was Emperor of Rome ; 
but it has been safe for 1700 years. Men spake 
(L charily of the Virgin Queen while she wore the 
' crown ; but since her death the world has not been 
afraid to say that " she was a vain, selfish, jealous, 
proud tyrant." Nor does it follow that a man has 
forfeited all claim to our regard because he has been 
gibbeted. How gloriously have the names of Sid- 
ney, Vane, Raleigh, Mary Stuart, and a thousand 
others, come forth from the eclipse which the dis- 
honour of execution for a long time cast over their 
/ memories. Of Mary and her oppressor, Irving says, 
^ "The walls of Elizabeth's sepulchre continually 
echo with the sighs of sympathy heaved at the grave 
of her rival." 

Shakspeare was honoured by his own age, but not 
as he has been since. It seems to be the opinion of 
mankind in this generation, that Shakspeare was the 
greatest intellect that ever appeared in the world ; 
and the man who questions this fifty years hence, 
will probably excite the pity of his race. There was 
one who knew the Bard of Avon well ; often heard 
him rehearse his own plays upon the stage ; listened 
to his full musical laugh ; saw him buried in Strat- 
ford, and wept at his grave — " Rare Ben Jonson." 



BEN JONSON AND HIS FRIEND. 69 

He knew what Shakspeare was; appreciated his 
power ; revered his name ; and spoke of him as 
Johnson, Goethe, Carlyle, and others have since. 
Ben Jonson never wrote words for which his genius 
and his heart deserve more praise than for those 

"To THE Memory of my Beloved Mr. William Shakspeare, 

AND WHAT HE HATH LEFT US. 

" To draw no envy, Shakspeare, on thy name, 
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ; 
While I confess thy writings to be such 
As neither man nor muse can praise too much. 
****** 

Thou art a monument, without a tomb ; 
And art alive still, while thy book doth live, 
And we have wits to read and praise to give. 
****** 

Triumph, my Britain ; thou hast one to show, 
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe ; 
He was not of an age, but for all time. 

****** 

Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it were 
To see thee in our waters yet appear — 

****** 

But stay ! I see thee in the hemisphere 
Advanced, and made a constellation there: 
Shine forth, thou star of Poets." 

It has been said that Jonson was envious of the 
fame of Shakspeare while living; but after death 
had thrown its sacredness over his memory, he 
wrote these touching lines ; which he could scarce- 
ly have written had he not loved the man. Ben 
Jonson's mother married a brick-layer, who took 
Ben from Westminster school to lay brick j and the 



70 GLORAY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

story is told, that at the building of Lincoln's Inn, 
he worked with his trowel in one hand and Horace 
in the other. The generous Sir Walter Raleigh, 
thinking Ben would be of quite as much service to 
the world in some other occupation, took him from 
his brick and mortar, and sent him to the Continent 
with his son. Many thanks to Sir Walter for that, 
as well as for other things. 

And there is the monument of the great Milton, 
who died poor, leaving three daughters unprovided 
for, to the charities of Englishmen, to whom he 
bequeathed a legacy worth more to them than 
all their foreign possessions. But rest thee peace- 
fully, Milton ! Thou art above the need of mortal 
pity now; for although the Paternoster publishers 
have grown rich from thy " Paradise Lost," they 
cannot rob thee of thy " Paradise Regained ;" not 
can they buy it of thee for £5, paid in three in- 
stalments. 

Under Milton is an elegant monument, lately 
erected to the memory of Gray, who has made every 
scholar weep as much for what he did not write, as 
over what he did. The Lyric Muse, in alt-relief, is 
holding a medallion of the poet, and, at the same 
time, pointing the finger to the bust of Milton, which 
is directly over it, with this inscription : 

" No more the Grecian Muse unrivall'd reigns, 

To Britain let the nations homage pay ; 

She felt a Homer's fire in Milton's strains, 

A Pindar's rapture in the lyre of Gray." 

Here is Dryden's plain, majestic monument Shef- 



CHAUCER, COWLEY, BUTLER, ETC. 7 

field showed much taste in the inscription : " J. Dry- 
den, born 1632, died May 1st, 1700. John Shef- 
field, duke of Buckingham, erected this monument, 
1720." Nothing more was necessary. And here, 
too, are Cdwley's monument and grave. Says an 
English writer, " The chaplet of laurel which be- 
girts his urn, and the fire issuing from its mouth, are 
expressive emblems of the glory he has acquired by 
the spirit of his writings." 

There sleeps Chaucer, the "Father of English 
poetry," who died 440 years ago. His was once a 
beautiful Gothic monument, but time has hardly 
spared the inscription. Near it is the tomb of But- 
ler, the learned author of Hudibras, another of the 
great writers of England so neglected by his age 
that he often suffered severely from hunger. " The 
English are a wonderful people," says a certain 
English author. Yes, they are a very wonderful 
people. They have erected palaces of gold for their 
oppressors, and left their illustrious authors to starve ! 
This is, indeed, wonderful ! John Barber, once Lord- 
mayor of London, a man distinguished for humanity, 
erected Butler's tombstone, " That he who was desti- 
tute of all things when alive, might not want a monu- 
ment when dead.'' Here we have the glory and the 
shame of England, side by side. 

Beneath Butler's monument is the dust of Spenser. 
The inscription is striking and appropriate. " Here 
lies (expecting the second coming of our Saviour 
Christ Jesus) the body of Edmund Spenser, the 



72 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Prince of Poets in his time, whose divine spirit needs 
no other witness than the works which he has left 
behind him. He was born in London in 1553, and 
died in 1598." Not far from Spenser is the grave 
of one of those choice spirits that from time to time 
come to us on earth, and over whose ashes the tears 
of all good men fall — Granville Sharp. His record 
is in the hearts of all who love humanity. 

In letting my eye wander back to Shakspeare's 
tablet, I saw near it the monument of the author of 
the " Seasons." " James Thomson, ^tatis 48, obit. 
27th August, 1748. Tutored by thee, sweet poetry 
exalts her voice to ages, and informs the page with 
music, image, sentiment, and thought, never to die." 
The figure of Thomson leans its left arm upon a 
pedestal, holding a book in one hand and a cap of 
Liberty in the other. 

On John Gay's monument is an epitaph written 
by himself, which is no less shocking to good taste 
than to religion : 

" Life is a jest, and all things show it: 
I thought so once, and now 1 know it." 

John Gay was considered a sensible man ; but he has 
probably had occasion to change his opinion on this 
point. 

There are the ashes of one of those brilliant stars 
which have risen in Ireland, to shed honour upon the 
English name — Oliver Goldsmith ; and who does 
not love his name, Boswell notwithstanding ? Said 
that little, obsequiouSj but, after all, very useful slave 



GOLDSMITH, ADDISON, HANDEL, ETC. 73 

of Johnson, one evening to Goldsmith, as he seemed 
to be attracting the attention of the company from 
the mighty lexicographer, " Oh, Goldy ! you must 
not try to shine in the presence of Hercules." Gold- 
smith did shine, however, in the presence of John- 
son, and every other man he met, when he conde- 
scended to. 

A little farther on is a fine statue in relief, on a 
monument with a Latin inscription, calling upon the 
stranger, whoever he may be, to " Venerate the mem- 
ory of Joseph Addison." Thou dost not need my 
praise, Addison ; but my heart responds to the call : 
I do venerate thee. 

Near this is the last monument Roubiliac lived to 
finish : it is Handel's. The left arm of the statue 
is resting on a group of musical instruments, and the 
attitude is expressive of fixed attention to the melody 
of an angel, playing on a harp in the clouds above. 
Before him lies the celebrated Messiah, opened at 
the sublime air, " I know that my Redeemer liveth ;" 
beneath only this inscription : " George Frederic 
Handel, Esq., born Feb. 23, 1684; died April 14, 
1769." 

I feel a great reverence for Isaac Barrow, who has 
a fine monument here : the last man we should ex- 
pect Charles II. would have chosen for his chaplain. 
There is a curious story told of Barrow. When he 
was a boy, as has often been observed of others who 
afterward become illustrious, he used to indulge in 
fancies and day-dreams of young ^-.nbition. Isaac's 

Vol. I.—G' 



74 GLOUY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

parents felt no great admiration for such things ; 
and, besides, he would not work like his brothers ; 
and as his sire could perceive no value in a boy who 
would not work, the good man used to pray, that 
if it ever pleased the Lord to take away from him 
any one of his children, it might be Isaac ! It is a 
good thing that even good men's prayers are not 
always answered. 

" To the memory of David Garrick, who died in 
the year 1779, at the age of 63." When one is 
passing for the first time around the solemn walls of 
Westminster Abbey, it is difficult to feel much rever- 
ence for an actor, even though he were the greatest 
actor the world ever saw. Garrick was great and 
generous ; but it is to be feared there was a part he 
never acted ; a part, too, it were wise in every man 
to play, before the last fall of the curtain. 

I could not but stop for a few moments before the 
splendid monument of Major Andre. This monu- 
ment is of statuary marble, and the figures were cut 
by Van Gelder. On a moulded panelled base and 
plinth, stands a sarcophagus, on the panel of which 
is inscribed : " Sacred to the memory of Major An- 
dre, who, raised by his merit, at an early period of 
life, to the rank of Adjutant-general of the British 
forces in America, and employed in an important 
but hazardous enterprise, fell a victim to his zeal 
for his king and country, the 2d October, 1780, 
aged twenty-nine, universally beloved and esteemed 
by the army in which he served, and lamented even 



MONUMENT OF ANDRE. 75 

by his foes. His gracious sovereign, King George 
III., has caused this monument to be erected ;" and 
on the plinth, " The remains of the said Major An- 
dre were deposited, on the 28th November, 1821, in 
a grave near this monument." 

The sarcophagus has projecting figures ; one of 
them (with a flag of truce) presenting to Washington 
a letter Andre had addressed to his excellency the 
night previous to his execution, and worded thus : 
" Sir, buoyed above the terror of death by the con- 
sciousness of a life devoted to honourable purposes, 
and stained with no action which can give me re- 
morse, I trust that the request which I make to your 
Excellency at this serious period, and which is to 
soften my last moments, will not be rejected : sym- 
pathy towards a soldier will surely induce your Ex- 
cellency and a military tribunal, to adapt the mode 
of my death to the feelings of a man of honour. Let 
me hope, sir, that if aught in my character impresses 
you with esteem towards me — if aught in my mis- 
fortunes marks me as the victim of policy, and not 
of resentment, I shall experience the operation of 
these feelings in your breast, by being informed that 
I am not to die on a gibbet. I have the honour to 
be, your Excellency, John Andre, Adjutant of Brit- 
ish forces in America." 

All this is impressive : his fate was melancholy. 
But Washington must not be blamed, if we judge 
him by the code of military honour. 

I have some indistinct recollection, I think, tha 



76 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

when I was a boy, I somewhere read a story like the 
following : After the retreat of General Washington 
from Long Island, by which it was left in possession 
of the British, that great commander applied to 
Colonel Knowlton to adopt some means of gaining 
information concerning the strength, situation, and 
future movements of the enemy. The colonel com- 
municated this request to Captain Hale, one of 
the most brilhant and best educated young men in 
America, who had left the halls of Yale University 
to die, if necessary, for liberty. Young Hale imme- 
diately volunteered his services ; and, conquering his 
repugnance to assume a character foreign to his na- 
ture, in the hope of being useful to his country, 
passed in disguise to Long Island, and obtained all 
the requisite information. In attempting to return, 
however, he was apprehended and brought before 
Sir William Howe, who ordered him to be executed 
the next morning. This sentence (conformable, it is 
true, to the laws of war) was carried into effect in 
the most unfeeling and barbarous manner. He ask- 
ed if he might see a friend (one he loved better than 
all things but liberty — one who had given him up to 
his country), and he was denied. He asked for a 
Bible : it was refused ! He was soon to die ; and 
even his last request that a clergyman might be with 
him for a little time, was rejected with noble oaths, 
and blasphemy, and curses (which we should not have 
mentioned but as furnishing a striking contrast to 
the conduct of Washington, who signed Andre's 



CHATHAM, PITT, FOX, SHERIDAN, ETC. 77 

death-warrant with tears, and, but for the advice of 
the court martial, would have granted his last pe- 
tition) ; and, more cruel than all this, Hale's letters, 
written the night before his death, to his betrothed, 
his mother, and other dear friends, and committed 
to his lordship for delivery after his execution, were 
broken open, read and burned, {jioble conduct i), in 
order, as was said by the provost-marshal, " that the 
rebels should not know that they had a man in their 
army who could die with so much firmness." I have 
also read, that she who would have been his bride, 
went with her father at night through the British 
lines, and took his body from the gibbet, and carried 
it to their own house I Spartan woman ! my only 
regret is, that thy country has not raised a monument 
to the memory of thyself and lover. 

A lesson of wisdom may be learned at every 
grave ; but a voice comes forth from the graves of 
some men buried here, which cannot but sink deep 
into the hearts of the living as they stand over the 
dust of the sleepers. The Earl of Chatham, Wil- 
liam Pitt, and his great rival, Charles James Fox, 
Grattan, Canning, and Sheridan, all sleep close to 
each other : their strifes and heart-burnings, their 
lofty aspirings, their deep and subtle intrigues, all 
sleeping with them. In dying, these men woke 
from the gorgeous dreams of life for the first time. 

While I was standing with one foot upon the 
grave of Fox, and the other upon that of Pitt, my 
friend came round from the north transept, and join- 
G2 



78 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ed me. As we raised our eyes to the grand statue 
of the great minister, he said, " It is not strange that 
England should have honoured the genius of Wil- 
liam Pitt ; but it is strange that we can forget the 
•prodigality of his administration. He may have 
made the name of England more glorious than it 
otherwise would have been, but in accomplishing 
this he laid a burden upon the English people, which, 
it is to be feared, nothing but a revolution can ever 
throw off. The English people will endure more 
oppression from their rulers than any people in the 
world. But this system of things cannot last al- 
ways ; and when the national feeling of England is 
once roused, as ere long it most certainly will be by 
the progress of the democratic principle, a host of 
abuses will be hurled to destruction in a single hour. 
A disabused and indignant people are not apt to 
listen to the terms their oppressors offer them : when 
they rise in their strength to demand justice, they 
will dictate their own terms. 

"Any man who is familiar with the English char- 
acter, and the history of the world, must be wilful- 
ly blind not to foresee that this crisis will sooner or 
later come in England, unless the aristocracy restore 
to the people their rights. And who that knows 
of what stuff the old English aristocracy is made, 
supposes for a moment that they will do this, until it 
is too late. 

" The elder Pitt was the greater and better man. I 
always admired the wisdom and the boldness of 



THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 79 

those prophetic words of his to the English peers : 
* To conquer America is an impossibility J' He was 
familiar with the history of the injured colonies ; he 
knew that justice and Heaven were on their side 
when the struggle began ; and that love for homes 
they had reclaimed from the wilderness ; love for 
liberty, their wives, and children, and for their pos- 
terity in all coming time, would nerve the arm of 
Americans as British gold never could the hired 
legions of England. One of the most preposterous 
notions which ever found its way into the human 
brain, was that the descendants of the men who 
built their cabins on Plymouth Rock could ever be 
conquered. 

" It has always seemed to me that the embarcation 
of the Pilgrim Fathers must have been one of the 
finest spectacles ever presented. I have often 
thought that when the Mayflower weighed her 
anchor, she must have seemed like a life-boat bear- 
ing away a few noble hearts from a sinking wreck 
— another ark freighted with men saved to people 
a New World. I once read a stirring anecdote 
of that Mayflower. It appears that one man, who 
had intended to sail in her, manifested some indecis- 
ion when they were about to haul in the plank : ' I 
don't know,' he said, ' as I had better go.' ' Well 
then,' exclaimed the brave commander, 'jump 
ashore; if you want to go you can go, and have 
our fare ; if not, you can stay. At any rate, we 
want no faint-hearted men among this crew.' The 



4 



80 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

man jumped ashore ; the plank was the next instant 
hauled in, and in five minutes all her sails were set, 
and she Tv'as ' leaving Old England's shores behind.' 

" England has never been trod by a nobler com- 
pany of men than the Pilgrim Fathers. They did 
not leave England because they were unwilling to 
•struggle and die for their principles ; but they saw 
the atmosphere of Europe was too cold and chilling 
for the growth of freedom, and they flung aside all 
but the hope that they might, in the fine language 
of Channing, ' transplant the tree of liberty to a new 
and more congenial clime.' There never had been 
a crisis in the world's history to call forth such men ; 
they had never been needed before. They were true 
heroes — not in the common use of that term, for 
such heroes had driven them from their homes; 
but Christian, brave men, who could not be intimi- 
dated by the threats of tyranny, nor conquered by 
sword and cannon. They had no confidence in the 
weak panoply of the soldier, although they could 
fight when it became necessary. They afforded a 
strong proof of the truth of that wise saying of an 
old historian, ' No man ever yet failed who had faith 
in God, and a determination to be free.' 

" The same despotism that oppressed the Puritans, 
urged their descendants into rebelhon. There never 
was a greater outrage upon common sense, than the 
arrogant claim of England to tax the colonies, with 
no representation in the legislature which governed 
them. The Americans rejected that claim with 
scorn, and the conflict began. 



AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 81 

" England could command the largest naval 
power on earth ; and what had America as an off- 
set? Only a few rusty firelocks, laid by from the 
old French and Indian wars ; and, as old Starks 
said, a few kegs of powder, which ' they were obhged 
to set fire to a week or ten days before they wanted 
to shoot.' But then was raised the voice of Adams 
and Hancock, ' To arms ; for our chains are forged, 
and their clanking may be heard on the plains of 
Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill !' What ! 
subdue such men ? England might as well have 
undertaken to chain the comets. 

"I always feel my blood thrill when I think of 
the American Revolution. Rotteck says, that in the 
Declaration of Independence, ' America planted her- 
self between magnificence and ruin.' It is a sublime 
idea. What a terrible thing it would have been if 
you had failed ! Humanity would not have recover- 
ed from the disastrous blow in a hundred years. 
But to fail under such circumstances was impossible. 
The great Chatham foresaw all this ; and England, 
■who never takes advice from her friends until it is too 
late — England, who commenced the war for the 
glory of her name and the wealth of her empire, 
might have saved herself millions of money, and 
tens of thousands of lives, and the eternal disgrace 
of being whipped out of the fairest portion of the 
habitable globe, had she only listened to the voice 
of that tongue, turned to dust in this grave." 

" I hope, my dear Manners," I replied, " for the 



82 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

safety of England, that she has not many sons like 
you. It would be a wise movement, I think, to send 
you to the Tower : this sounds too much like treason. 
We will send for you to come to New- York, and 
deliver us a 4th of July oration ; you would save 
us the trouble of saying these things for ourselves. 
You know we have the credit abroad of devoting 
that day to the work of self-glorification." 

" Well," replied the captain, " it is right that you 
should be proud of the achievements of your fathers; 
and it is also quite natural that we should feel some- 
what sensitive on these points. The pride of Eng- 
land was never more effectually humbled than in 
America." 

We stopped a few moments before the superb 
monument of Sir Isaac Newton. It is grand and 
expressive ; worthy of the illustrious man to whom 
it was erected. The inscription is in Latin, short, 
but full of meaning. It concludes with this beau- 
tiful sentiment : " Mortals have reason to exult in 
the existence of so noble an ornament to the human 
race." 

After looking at the monuments of which I have 
spoken, I directed my attention to the architecture 
of the Abbey. It is an immense pile, built in the 
form of a cross, its length from east to west being 
416 feet, and its breadth about 200. The two fine 
towers on the west end are 225 feet high. Around 
the choir of the Abbey there is a succession of small 
chapels, filled with curious antique monuments, and 
the effigies of royal families, lying in state. 



CHAPEL OF ST. EDWARD. 83 

We were led through every part of the Abbey by 
a pale old verger, who has been so long cloistered 
within these sacred walls that he seemed to have lost 
all sympathy with the external world. His face 
was pale as marble ; his step as solemn and still as 
you ever heard in the chamber of death ; and his voice 
seemed to come up as in hollow tones from the sep- 
ulchre : a fitting representative of the spirit of the 
place. 

We passed several hours among the chapels. The 
verger seemed inclined to finish his explanations as 
soon as possible ; but we did not like the idea of 
being hurried through these impressive chambers, 
and expressed a wish to remain a while : this w.e 
were denied. But knowing that in such cases there 
is one argument that never fails, I slipped a half 
crown into the old codger's hand, which settled the 
matter without farther words. 

I will only speak of two of the chapels — St. Ed- 
ward's and Henry the Seventh's. In the centre of 
the former stands the venerable shrine of St. Edward, 
which was once considered the glory of England. 
But the sepulchre was long ago broken open, and 
the ornaments stolen from his body. Edward was 
the last Saxon king of England. He died the year 
of the battle of Hastings (1Q66), and was canonized 
in 1269. Henry III. pledged the jewels belonging 
to the shrine of Edward to foreigners ; being com- 
pelled, as the record still preserved in the Tower 
states, to take this course " by heavy emergencies." 
No very creditablj way for a king to raise money. 



84 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Here Matilda, queen of England, daughter of 
c,, Malcolm, king of Scots, and wife of Henry I., is 
I ^ buried. It was her custom every day in Lent to 
walk from her palace to the Abbey barefoot, clothed 
in a garment of coarse hair, kissing the feet of the 
poorest people she met in her way, and dispensing 
charities. In this chapel, in a large plain coffin of 
gray marble, lies the body of the greatXd ward, call- 
ed the English Justinian. He died in 1307. Four 
hundred and sixty-seven years after his burial his 
tomb was opened by the Dean of Westminster. 
" The body was perfect, having on two robes, one 
of gold and silver tissue, and the other of crimson 
velvet ; a sceptre of gold in each hand measuring 
near five feet; a crown on his head, and many jewels 
quite bright : he measured six feet and two inches." 
Here, too, Henry V., of Jack FalstafF memory, 
and victor of Agincourt, sleeps. In this chapel are 
also to be seen the two coronation chairs. The most 
ancient of these chairs was brought with the regalia 
from Scotland, by Edward L, in 1297 (after over- 
coming John Baliol), and offered at St. Edward's 
shrine. In this chair the monarchs of England are 
crowned, and to this place they come for their sep- 
ulchres. 
^ Henry Seventh's chapel is called " the wonder of 

I the world." It stands at the east end of the Abbey, 
and is so neatly joined to it that it seems to be part 
of the main edifice. It is adorned with sixteen 
Gothic towers, beautifully ornamented, and jutting 



CITAPEL OF HENRY VII. 85 

from the building in different angles. It is built on 
the plan of a cathedral, with a nave and side-aisles. 
The entrance to this chapel is through curiously- 
wrought, ponderous gates of brass. The lofty ceil- 
ing is worked into an astonishing variety of designs, 
and you may imagine my surprise when I was told 
that it was all wrought in solid stone. A celebrated 
French architect afterward told me that one man 
could not complete the work upon that ceihng in a 
less time than a thousand years. The pavement is 
of white and black marble. This splendid chapel 
was designed to be a kingly sepulchre, in which 
none but the royal should sleep; and the will of the 
founder has been so far observed, that none have 
been admitted to burial here who could not trace their 
descent from some ancient family of kings. " But 
nothing is so universally and justly admired for its 
antiquity and fine workmanship, as the magnificent 
tomb of Henry the Seventh, and his queen Eliza- 
beth, ' the last of the House of York that wore the 
English crown.' This tomb stands in the body of 
the chapel, enclosed in a curious chantry of cast 
brass, most admirably designed and executed, and 
ornamented with statues. Within it are the effigies 
of the royal pair in their robes of state, lying close 
together, carved on a tomb of black marble. 

Here at last found rest the remains of the two young 
princes who were basely murdered by their treach- 
erous uncle, Richard III. The story is faithfully 
\old in a Latin inscription over their grave. You 

Vol, L— H 



86 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLaND. 

remember that these poor boys were confined in the 
Tower, stifled with pillows, and then privately 
buried. One hundred and ninety years passed away 
before their bones were discovered, and then they 
were found among the rubbish of the stairs leading 
to the White Tower. Charles II. removed their re- 
mains to this spot, where their ancestors lie. One 
of these princes was born in the old sanctuary which 
once belonged to the Abbey, where his mother had 
taken refuge during the terrible civil wars of the 
houses of York and Lancaster. 

" Two small aisles on each side of this chapel pre- 
sent a touching picture of the equality of the grave, 
•which brings down the oppressor to a level with the 
oppressed, and mingles the dust of the bitterest ene- 
mies together. In one is the sepulchre of the haugh- 
ty Elizabeth ; in the other is that of her victim, the 
lovely and unfortunate Mary. Not an hour in the 
day but some ejaculation of pity is uttered over the 
fate of the latter, mingled with indignation at her 
oppressor. The walls of Elizabeth's sepulchre con- 
tinually echo with sighs of sympathy heaved at the 
grave of her rival. A peculiar melancholy reigns 
over the aisle where Mary lies buried. The light 
struggles dimly through windows darkened by dust. 
The greater part of the place is in deep shadow, and 
the walls are stained and tinted by time and weath- 
er. A marble figure of Mary is stretched upon the 
tomb, round which is an iron railing much corroded, 
bearing her national emblem the thistle. I was 



DESECRATION OF THE DEAD. 87 

weary with wandering, and sat down to rest myself 
by the monument, revolving in my mind the check- 
ered and disastrous story of poor Mary." These 
beautiful words you have read in Irving. 

Time is the great regulator. How sure he is to 
do justice at last ! Mrs. Jamieson has set this mat- 
ter in its proper light. Mary Stuart needed no bet- 
ter defender of her fame. After waiting nearly 300 
years, justice has been done to her name by the he- 
roic and beautiful biographer of the imperious and 
hateful Elizabeth. 

A great number of the tombs and shrines of the 
Abbey have been shockingly mutilated and defaced. 
Even the kings of England, not satisfied with grind- 
ing from their living subjects all that oppression 
could exact, have entered this temple, and robbed 
the dead of those few choice jewels and treasures 
which surviving affection had placed in their coffins. 
But this, perhaps, should pass without censure, as 
the English Constitution declares the king can do no 
wrong ! The sceptre has been stolen from the 
mouldered hand of Elizabeth, and there is hardly a 
royal monument which has not been plundered or 
mutilated. The grave is a sanctuary for the dead in 
the peaceful country churchyard; but not so m 
Westminster Abbey. They who are buried here 
have found no security against the rapacity and in- 
sult of the living. 

I pity the man who lives and dies in the hope of 
being long remembered, who has no more enduring 



88 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

monument than the marble to perpetuate his fame. 
There are many inscriptions in the Abbey which 
cannot be read : they have faded away with the 
names and deeds of those they were intended to 
commemorate. Nothing ever appears to me so 
mournful as a gravestone with its epitaph obliterated 
by time. " Thus man passes away ; his name per- 
ishes from record and recollection ; his history is as 
a tale that is told, and his very monument becomes 
a ruin." This is one of those touching; morals taught 
us by Irving, in writing about this hall of death. 

One sees in Westminster Abbey almost as much 
as he would have seen had he lived in England for 
a thousand years. If a great person has died, or a 
great deed been done in this island for centuries, 
they have brought some memento, and placed it with- 
in these walls. Here we read the story of the virtues 
and the crimes of England's great men ; here we 
find their monuments, their escutcheons, and their 
ashes. In different ages, and from different scenes 
of action, England's kings have come to these solemn 
cloisters at last, to forget in the deep slumber of the 
grave the troubles, the follies, and the guilt of the 
life just ended. No one of them, as he went to his 
sepulchre, stopped to listen to the clamours that 
swelled behind him ; to the contentions of fierce and 
eager aspirants to his vacant throne. Even bluff 
Harry VIII. goes sturdily to his resting-place, with- 
out seeming in his dying moments to bestow a 
thought on his discarded wives or injured daughters. 



THE PAST AND THE PRESENT. 89 

But they are not all of royal or noble blood that 
rest here. Greater Englishmen than English kings 
have a name and a grave within these solemn cham- 
bers. Bucklers, helmets, and broadswords are spread 
over the tomb of the bold baron ; the cross and the 
crosier mark the sepulchre of some pious bishop ; and 
over this tomb are banners, streamers, and all the 
insignia of naval triumph, doing honour to some 
captain of the sea, who is here alike forgetful of the 
roar of the battle and the terrors of the wreck. As 
you pass along those aisles whose silence is unbro- 
ken save by your own footfall, and read the quaint 
epitaphs of heroes of olden time, insensibly will the 
impression steal over the imagination that it was but 
yesterday that all these dead were alive, and you, a 
stranger from the far future, have been carried back 
to the days of ancient chivalry to converse with 
walking shadows ; to think of the present as though 
it were a prophecy, a dream, or a hope, and of the 
past as though it were a reality. 

And yet speak to that suit of armour which seems 
now to threaten as it once did in battle — it returns 
no answer ; the voice is still that once spoke through 
those iron jaws, and the cold moisture which gathers 
on its rusted face seems like tears shed over the hero 
who once wore it. 

When the mind is full of thoughts suggested by 
these relics of antiquity, and the heart full of emo- 
tions; when the images of great men who have long 
flitted around the fancy appear, and we see before us 
H2 



90 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the very sword they once used in battle, and the very 
banner that once floated over them, there is no room 
left for other thought ; we cannot contemplate mod- 
ern times or our own existence. While we are lin- 
gering in a place where England has preserved all 
that she could of the great and the virtuous — a place 
of which we have read and thought from childhood, 
and around which so many bright recollections clus- 
ter — what marvel if hours on hours steal away ere 
we wake from the strong illusion. 

The day had passed away as a night of rich 
dreams goes by, and we were unconscious how long 
we had been strolling around the walls, until the 
evening light began to stream in more and more 
feebly through the lofty stained windows, and a 
deeper gloom settled upon every part of the Abbey. 
And when increasing darkness had spread through 
all the cloisters, chapels, and passages, a more solemn 
and mysterious gloom, I could not but ask, what is 
night, deep, dark night — without moon, star, or taper 
— around these silent poets, barons, priests, sages, 
heroes, and kings! 

Is never a sigh heard to come forth from these 
damp tombs ? a shout from some sleeping warrior ? 
or an " Ave Maria" from some crusader monk ? 
If we should stay here until midnight — the hour 
when spirits haunt these halls of the dead, if they 
ever haunt them — might we not hear the sound of 
revelry where the ashes of Harry of Monmouth are 
laid J and a hollow voice calling out through the 



RECORD'S OF THE ABBEY. 91 

stillness of night " Sweet Hal ?" Around the tomb 
of " Queen Bess," should we not hear the flattery of 
gallant courtiers and the preparations of the stage ; 
the voices of Raleigh, and Burleigh, and Essex, and 
Leicester, and the notes of the sweet bard of Avon 
sounding melodiously over all; or the plaintive sor- 
row of poor Mary Stuart ? — Might we not hear from 
some part of the Abbey a faint voice as if it came 
from " the spirit land ?" 

No ! these dead do never waken or walk : the 
battle-axe has fallen from the strong hand of the 
Saxon and the Norman, and they rest in stillness 
together. Genius, which lived in sorrow and died 
in want, here sleeps as proudly as royalty. All is 
silence ; but here " silence is greater than speech." 

This is the great treasure-house of England. If 
every record on earth besides were blotted out, and 
the memory of the living should fade away, the 
stranger could still in Westminster Abbey write the 
history of the past ; for England's records are here : 
from the rude and bloody escutcheons of the ancient 
Briton to the ensigns of Norman chivalry, and from 
these to admiralty stars and civic honours. The 
changes which civilization has made in its progress 
through the world, have left their impressions upon 
these stones and marbles. On the monument where 
each great man rests, his age has uttered its lan- 
guage ; and among such numbers of the dead there is 
the language of many ages. England speaks from its 
barbarity, its revolutions, and its newest civilization. 



98 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Each generation has laid some of its illustrious ones 
here, and it is no wonder that there is not a spot to 
which an Englishman turns his eye with so much 
pride as to Westminster ; nor a spot which the trav- 
eller so well loves to visit. 

One cannot but feel both gratitude and indigna- 
tion here : gratitude for every noble effort in behalf 
of humanity, civilization, liberty, and truth, made by 
these sleepers ; indignation at every base deed, every 
effort to quench the light of science or destroy free- 
dom of thought ; every outrage inflicted upon man ; 
and every blow aimed against liberty by the oppres- 
sors of the race. 

There is not a great author here who did not 
write for us ; not a man of science who did not in- 
vestigate truth for us ; we have received advantage 
from every hour of toil that ever made these good 
and great men weary. A wanderer from the most 
distant and barbarous nation on earth cannot come 
here without finding the graves of his benefactors. 
Those who love science and truth, and long for the 
day when perfect freedom of thought and action 
shall be the common heritage of man, will feel 
grateful, as they stand under these arches, for all the 
struggles, and all the trials to enhghten and emanci- 
pate the world, which the great who here rest from 
their labours have so nobly endured. 

And, above all, the scholar, who has passed his 
best years in study, will here find the graves of his 
teachers. He has long worshipped their genius ; he 



THE SOLITARY ROSE. 93 

has gathered inspiration and truth from their writings; 
they have made his solitary hours, which to other 
men are a dreary waste, Hke the magical gardens of 
Armida, " whose enchantments arose amid soli- 
tude, and whose solitude was everywhere air.ong 
those enchantments." The scholar may wish to 
shed his tears alone, but he cannot stand by the 
graves of his masters in Westminster Abbey with- 
out weeping : they are tears of love and gratitude. 
We passed around the walks on the south side of 
the Abbey before we finally left it. Here we saw 
a pretty girl, about fifteen, watering a York and 
Lancaster rose, which was growing by the Abbey 
wall. There was but one flower on the stock, and 
that was in full bloom. We always like to carry- 
away with us, from such hallowed places, some me- 
mento ; and though any one would have desired 
the flower, yet I ought not to have thought of ask- 
ing for that solitary rose. And yet, " My dear girl," 
said I, " will you part with that rose to a stranger *?" 
" Oh, no, sir ! I have tended it for several months, 
and I cannot think of parting with it ; and it's the 
only flower I have in the world, too." Judging 
from her appearance that I should not offend her, I 
threw down a half crown ; she hesitated for a mo- 
ment, and broke the stem ; and as she handed me the 
flower a blush spread over her pale features : "I 
did not think I would let it go, sir," she said, " but 
you are so generous I must." 



94 CLORY VND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

We turned to go away ; but in a moment I felt 
sorry for what I had done. Tt was a cold and selfish 
request : I had taken away from a poor, sick girl, 
shut up within the brick walls of London, where the 
fresh country air, with the fragrance it gathers in 
blowing over green fields, never comes, the only 
flower she had in the world. I stopped, and, turn- 
ing round, saw the poor girl weeping over its stem : 
I would have given the best day of my life to re- 
place it. 

"I am very sorry I took your flower," said I; 
" will it be any comfort to you to have it back ?" 
" No, sir, ifspicked now ; I shouldn't have cared a fig 
about it, if there had been another. But there is a 
bud here, I see, and I shall have another rose in a 
few days." I handed her a crown. A smile lighted 
up her face again, and she said, " You are so kind, sir, 
I had almost as lief you would have the rose as to 
have kept it myself. I don't care anything about it 
now — indeed I don't. I was very silly to cry about 
it ; but I had tended it so long, and it was all the 
rose I had." 



THOUGHTS ON VISITING WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 

Old Structure ! Round thy solid form 

Have heaved the crowd, and swept the storm, 

And centuries roU'd their tide ; 
Yet Still thou standest firmly there, 
Thy gray old turrets stern and bare, ^f^ 

The grave of human pride. 



THOUGHTS ON THE ABBEY. 95 

Erect, immovable, sublime, 

As when thou soaredst in thy prime, 

On the bold Saxon's sight ; 
Thou boldest England's proudest dead, 
From him who there first laid his head, 

" The royal anchorite," 

To her long call'd the Virgin Queen 
(And oh ! what heroes pass'd between), 

Who, with a might her own, 
The kingdom's sceptre sway'd, and threw 
A glory, and a shadow too. 

Around her fearful throne. 

Mysterious form, thy old gray wall 
Has seen successive kingdoms fall, 

And felt the mighty beat 
Of Time's deep flood, as thrones, and kings, 
A.nd crowns, and all earth's proudest things, 

It scatter'd at thy feet. 

And now, as 'neath this arch I stand, 
I seem upon the earth's wide strand. 

And round about me cast, 
Upon the dark and silent shore. 
The richest freights it ever bore. 

The glory of the past. 

Oh ! how the pageants rise, and swim, 
And vanish round my vision dim ! — 

I see the solemn funeral train. 
That bears a monarch to his tomb ; 
The tall plumes waving through the gloom, 

The mournful requiem train. 

The priest's low chant, the mutter'd prayer, 
The tread of warriors, all are there ; 
And high above, the toll 



96 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Of the deep bell, whose heavy knell 
Blends with the organ's mighty swell, 
O'er the departed soul. 

'Tis gone ! and through the portals wide 
Comes rolling in a living tide ; 

And hark ! far echoed out. 
Whence comes that high and deafening peal, 
Till e'en these steadfast turrets reel ? 

It is a nation's shout. 

Oh ! how the gorgeous, proud array 
Is pressing through the crowded vi^ay, 

With drum and trumpet tone ! 
But who now halts within the door 1 
A monarch's foot is on the floor, 

His eye upon a throne. 

His lip IS wreathing in a smile. 

As, passing down the foot- worn aisle, 

The banners droop around him ; 
But oh ! his thoughts are not on those 
Who hail him as he proudly goes 

To where the lordly crown him. 

His heart in this exciting hour 
Doth dream exultingly of power 

The given crown shall bring ; 
And triumph sits within that eye. 
As, thundering round him, wild and high, 

Resounds, " God save the king !" 

'Tis vanish'd ! " like a morning cloud" — 
The throne, the king, the shouting crowd, 

And here I stand alone ; 
And like the ocean's solemn roar 
Upon some distant, desert shore, 

A low, perpetual moan, 



THOUGHTS ON THE ABBEY. 97 

I seem to hear the steady beat 
Of century-waves around my feet, 

As generations vast 
Are borne unto the dim-seen strand 
Of that untrodden, silent land, 

That covers all the past, 

I'm with the dead ; and at my feet 

The graves of two proud queens do meet — 

One arch gives ample room 
For whom an empire was too small. 
Proud rival hearts ! and is this all 1 

A narrow, silent tomb ! 

Here, too, are slumbering side by side, 
Like brother-warriors true and tried. 

Two stern and haughty foes : 
Their stormy hearts are still — the tongue, 
On which enraptured thousands hung, 

Is hush'd in long repose. 

I see the poet's broken lyre. 

O'er which were utter'd words of fire ; 

The hero's shiver'd sword ; 
The sage's tomes ; the wreath of fame — 
All drifting to the dark inane. 

And no returning word. 

Old Abbey ! on my thoughtful heart, 
A lesson that shall ne'er depart. 

Thy silent walls have left ; 
And now, more wise than I have been, 
I step into the living stream 

Again, and onward drift. 

Faithfully yours, &c., 
Vol. I.— I 



GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 



London, June 12, 1840. 

Dear , 

This morning Mr. , one of the distinguished 

philanthropists of Great Britain, called at my lodg- 
ings to go with me to Freemason's Hall, where the 
World's Convention was to assemble. He greeted 
me very cordially, and seemed disposed to render me 
those kind civilities which a stranger in a foreign 
land best knows how to appreciate. 

In passing through Ave Maria, a small street that 
runs from Ludgate Hill into Paternoster Row, the 
great book emporium, we met two children, about 
eight years old, who prostrated themselves on their 
knees before us, and implored us to buy a penny 
book they held in their hand, for they had eaten 
nothing, they said, for two days. 

The sidewalk was very narrow, and Mr. 

pulled me by the arm, saying, " Let us cross over." 
" We will wait a moment, if you please," I replied ; 
"I want to ask these children a few questions." 
" Oh, sir," he answered, " if we stop to talk with 
every beggar we meet between this and Great 
Queen-street, we shall find business enough for the 
day ;" at the same time he pulled my arm a little 
harder than before, and manifested considerable im- 
patience. I remarked, " If you are particularly anx- 
ious to go on, I must beg you to excuse me, for I 
cannot leave these children without knowing some- 



THE MENDICANT CHILDREN. 99 

thing more about them." " Oh, sir," he replied, 
" certainly we will stop if you wish." I did wish to 
stop. 

The little children were still kneeling on the pave- 
ment. A coarse hempen sack, with holes for the 
neck and arms, constituted their entire dress, and this 
was falling from them by pieces. The countenances 
of both were lean and pallid, but there was great 
beauty, or, rather, would have been, in the features 
of the girl, if they had not been sharpened and de- 
formed by famine. " Get up, httle children," I said ; 
" we don't want you to kneel to us." As they rose 
they left the fresh blood upon the stones where they 
had knelt. It was the first time a human being had 
ever bent the knee to me, and I pray it may be the 
last. I felt then what " degradation'^ means ; and 
the sight of that fresh blood struck a chill to my 
heart. " What makes your knees bleed V I asked. 
" Please, sir," said the boy, " 'cause w^e gits down so 
much afore gentlemen to sell this book; and we is 
dreadful hungry." "How long have you gone 
without eating, children ?" " We han't had nothing, 
please, sir, for two days, only a boy give us a roll 
yesterday." Their pale and famished countenances 
declared he spoke the truth. " Is that your sister, 
my little fellow ?" " Please, sir, I don't know ; I ex- 
pect she aint." " Where is your home, children ?" 
Both of them asked, "What did you say, sir?" 
" Where do your parents live ?" " Don't know, sir, 
please." " Where were you born ? Can't you tell 



100 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

me ?" « No, sir." « Where do you stay ?' " Please, 
sir, we stays here all day, and nights we stays where 
they put us." " They 7 Who do you mean ?" " The 
policemen, sir." " Where did you get the book ?" 
Both of them began to cry. I repeated the question. 
" Oh !" exclaimed the philanthropist, " I can save 
you the trouble of asking that question. They stole 
it, of course. I never knew a beggar in my life that 
did not steal when he had an opportunity." 

My soul was, stirred with indignation. I never 
heard words which grated on my heart more like a 
file over the naked flesh. I was too much excited to 
answer him, and I went on talking with the children. 

" Tell me, my dear boy, where you got the book; 
you need not be afraid, for I won't hurt you, if you 
did steal it : tell me." " Oh ! sir," said the little 
girl, as her feeble form shook with fear, " we beg- 
ged till we was so hungry we thought we couldn't 
live any longer, and we got nothing, and we see the 
book in a stall, and we didn't want to steal it, but 
we didn't want to starve, and Jimmy said he didn't 
dare steal, and so I did. But, please, we was so 
hungry, or we wouldn't done it." 

" You see I am right, sir," said Mr. , with 

some appearance of exultation. "Yes, sir," I re- 
plied, " I see you are ; and would you blame your 
own child for stealing a penny book to keep him 
from starving ?" I said nothing more, although it 
was almost impossible for me to control my feelings. 
" Why, it is painful," said he, " one must confess; 



THE MENDICANT CHILDREN. 101 

but then this is probably all acting ; they are most 
likely making begging a profession. There is so 
much of this in London, that I really refrain from 
giving anything to street beggars Jrom principle. 
I am taxed for poor rates, and pay a good deal eve- 
ry year to the different charities, and, besides, the 
public authorities make provision for all such peo- 
ple." (This is not true.) " I think it countenances 
the whole system of street-begging to give them one 
penny ; and we should no doubt be doing a service 
to society by reporting such cases in the proper quar- 
ter." " I agree with you, sir," I answered ; " and 
I think the proper quarter to report this case is a 
place where these poor sufferers may get some bread" 
And seeing a bake-shop near, I told the children to 
follow me, asking the indulgence of my philanthropic 
companion for a few moments. " Don't let us be 
detained very long," said he, " for I fear we shall 
be quite late now ; I will wait for you at the shop 
on the corner." 

It was a relief to my feelingstobe left alone with 
the poor little outcasts. " Please, sir," said the little 
girl, as she cast anxious glances behind her upon the 
receding form of the philanthropist, " won't that 
gentleman take us up ?" " No, child, come with me." 
We reached the shop, and I gave them as much 
bread as they could hold in their hands, and left a 
small sum of money with the man, that they might 
have more, as they needed, until I should call again. 
They took the bread and thanked me j at the same 
12 



102 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

time tears of gratitude filled their eyes, from which 
they had just wiped away the tears of sorrow. We 
passed out into the street, and they sat down in a 
small open space, which let the light into a basement 
window, and ate their bread together, with that 
keen, ravenous appetite which famine only can give. 

I hurried on to my companion. I told him that I 
hoped he would excuse me, for in my own country 
such a scene as that was never witnessed, and I 
could not contemplate it with that fortitude which 
he seemed to display. " Well," said he, " any one, 
I think, would be affected in the same way, until he 
learned what a vast system of imposition is practised 
upon the benevolent by the London beggars. The 
evils of mendicity and vagrancy had become so 
alarming a few years ago, that the House of Com- 
mons instituted a committee of inquiry on the sub- 
ject, and their report developed such a mass of evi- 
dence, that no shadow of doubt can be left in the 
mind of any man who will read it, that gross and 
monstrous frauds are practised by mendicants in 
London, and on a scale which almost exceeds the 
belief even of those who have investigated the 
subject. 

" This report stated that large sums of money 
were found about the persons of beggars who had 
been brought before the magistrates. A blind man, 
with a dog, collected thirty shillings a day ; and 
multitudes of others, in the ordinary course of their 
pursuit, made from five to ten shillings daily. Two 



SYSTEM OF STREET BEGGING. 103 

houses in St. Giles's were ascertained to be frequent- 
ed by more than two hundred beggars. There they 
met and held their clubs, had fine entertainments, 
read the London journals, and discussed the news. 
No one dared intrude into their assemblies, unless 
he was a beggar by profession, or introduced by one 
of the fraternity. Their average daily collections 
amounted to from three to five shillings for each 
person. 

" Why, sir, a negro, who had taken advantage of 
the sympathy excited in favour of the African race, 
some time ago retired to the West Indies with 
j61500, which he had amassed by street begging. 
Only a year or two since, a female beggar died in 
London, and left in her will a large sum of money 
to one of the clerks in the Bank of England ; and 
the reasons she assigned for making him the object 
of her benevolence were, that she had not a friend 
on earth ; she could not take her money with her 
into the future world ; and when he had given her 
anything, it was always silver. 

" Beggars have been heard to say that they go 
through forty streets a day, and that it is a poor 
street which does not yield twopenee, and a bad 
day that does not give them eight shillings or more. 
They make use of children extensively, in practising 
upon the feelings of the humane. These children 
are sent out in the morning, with an order not to re- 
turn without a certain sum. The veteran beggars 
who employ these juvenile agents, often obtain them 



104 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND 

directly from their parents, to whom they pay a stip- 
ulated price for their services ; and instances have 
been known of their actually buying children for 
these purposes. Some of these children are horribly 
deformed ; in consequence of which, their appeals 
are so successful that they command from their em- 
ployers several shillings a day for their services. 

" The committee reported an instance of an old 
woman who kept a night-school for the purpose of 
instructing children in the street language and the 
way to beg. The committee stated, also, that Mr. 
Martin's calculation, which was made nearly forty 
years ago, that there were 15,000 beggars in Lon- 
don, was very much below the estimate which the 
evidence before them had compelled them to make. 
It is well known that the profession of begging has 
been brought to perfection. Every invention which 
experience and cunning can devise, is brought into 
requisition to carry out this infamous system. Stran- 
gers, and particularly Americans, I believe, are gen- 
erally much affected by the apparent suffering they 
meet with in the various forms mendicity assumes 
in London. But a knowledge of the facts 1 have 
mentioned places them on their guard against impo- 
sition, and saves them from bestowing their gener- 
ous sympathies upon ill-deserving objects." 

In replying to his statements, I remarked : " My 
dear sir, you do not mean to say, I suppose, that 
among the crowds of beggars who throng the 10,000 
streets, courts, and lanes of the metropolis, there are 



THE PHILANTHROPIST. 105 

not thousands of cases of real distress ? thousands 
who are worthy of charity, if misfortune and pover- 
ty, orphanage and degradation, can give man any 
claim upon the sympathy of his brother V 

" Well, sir," said he, " I think, nevertheless, we 
should be pretty careful how we are duped by such 
vagrants." 

" It gave me great pain, sir," I replied, " to 
hear what you said before of those little children. 
They did not take you to be a philanthropist. The 
little girl trembled at your presence, and asked me 
if you would not have her taken up and punished 
for begging. Have I come to a country whose 
starving orphans dread the sight of its philanthro- 
pists 1 I must confess, sir, that I should give you 
very little credit for all your anti-slavery philan- 
thropy, were I a slave-owner, and knew how you 
passed those hungry children, wandering in the great 
wilderness of London, with no one but a stranger to 
pity them, and no eye to watch over them but the 
eye of ' Him who feeds the young ravens when 
they cry.' 

" Let me tell you how I feel, frankly and honestly. 
I did not say much in reply to your remarks while 
we were with the children, for I did not dare trust 
myself to answer you then; but I am calm now. 
How would it strike those whom you call ' the op- 
pressors of the world,' to whom you, as one of this 
great Convention, will make your appeal, if they 
knew all the circumstances connected with our inter- 



106 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

view with those children 1 Would your opinions 
have the least weight or consideration with them 1 
Suppose, if you please, that these children are of the 
number of those poor creatures forced into the streets 
of London to beg for masters more cruel than the 
slaveholder, inasmuch as they impose upon their slaves 
more degrading tasks ; and suppose the slaveholder 
aware of the fact ; would he be likely to listen to 
your appeal 1 Would he give you any credit for 
getting up such a mighty sympathy for men in a 
foreign country, while you overlook the poor, naked, 
hungry orphan starving at your door ? 

"I really hope you will give me credit for too 
much common sense to suppose that I can doubt there 
are in this great city thousands who beg rather than 
steal, and at last, if need be, steal rather than die ; 
thousands compelled to depend upon the tender mer- 
cies of strangers who have not yet learned how to 
turn away the poor starving wretch with a frown, 
because, perchance, he may be begging for a living ; 
and for the reason that he cannot keep body and 
soul together in any other way. I greatly fear, sir, 
that in shunning to be duped by beggars, you are 
practising a deception upon yourself (which that day 
of trial we all expect to meet in the future will lay 
bare), in supposing that so large a proportion of 
these beggars are abusing the benevolence of the 
humane. 

" That there are many of the class you have de- 
scribed I do not doubt ; or that their number is very 



UEPLY TO THE PHILANTHROPIST. 107 

large ; but I am quite as well satisfied that there are 
still more who make to you their unavailing plea, 
and whom it were far better to assist than to over- 
look for distant objects of charity, however noble 
your efforts for the oppressed of other nations may 
be. These ' poor ones' come to you with a claim 
which, one would think, philanthropy could not 
deny. Their famished looks and wasted forms are 
God's seal upon the righteousness of their cause 5 tell- 
ing you in language which ' he who runs may read,' 
that your brother at home is dying for want of bread ; 
and that you cannot close your ear upon his cry, 
and hope for the blessing Christ has promised to 
bestow upon those who feed the hunger and clothe 
the nakedness of ' one of the least of his children' 
in this world." 

After I had said this we walked on in silence for 
some time. 

I had reason to believe, from his manner, that what 
I had said was not very agreeable to him ; but I did 
not feel condemned for my words. I only discovered 
another illustration of that truth which has passed 
into a proverb : " Good men even do not always 
love to be reproved." 

I continued by saying, " I believe it is quite com- 
mon for us all to be more affected by distress at a 
distance, than by the misery around our own doors. 
I have seen a minister of the Gospel punish a slave 
who was a member of his own church, on Sunday 
morning, for a trifling offence, and go into the pulpit 



108 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAKD. 

and deliver one of the most affecting discourses on 
the state of the heathen world I ever heard. His 
tears were a pledge of his sincerity." " But, sir, 
you would not call him a Christian, would you V 
exclaimed Mr. , with some astonishment. 

" I would not hastily conclude," I said, " that he 
was not a good man ; for I have known many in- 
stances to the same effect no less striking. We must 
make proper allowances for the power of custom 
and inveterate habits. I will not say that I am a 
better man than you because I was more deeply 
affected by the sight of those hungry children than 
you were. You have long been familiar with such 
scenes. But I vnll say, that I do not believe there 
are many slaveholders in America who would not 
have given them assistance. 

" There is a circumstance connected with the state 
of society in England, which I find many good men 
here seem entirely to overlook, but which to me is 
inexpressibly painful : it is the cruel burdens under 
which that portion of your population which you call 
the ' lower classes' are suffering. I do not speak 
of the very lowest class who live by begging, al- 
though the London Quarterly estimates that in Great 
Britain the paupers compose one sixth part of the 
whole people. But I speak of that great class who 
are shut out from all intercourse with the better and 
more intelligent portions of society, and deprived of 
those high and powerful motives to exertion and 
advancement so necessary in elevating the charac- 



RESULT OF WEST INDIA EMANCIPATION. 109 

ter. The emancipation of 800,000 slaves in the 
British colonies was very noble, considered as an act 
of humane legislation; and the result has been all 
that the friends of that act could have anticipated. 
This is the united voice of hundreds who have gone 
there to see the working of the experiment ; and 
Parliament has confirmed their statements that free- 
dom has worked well. 

" But still there is a consideration connected even 
with this glorious act not a little painful. The 
^£20,000,000 which were the price of taking off the 
fetters of colonial slaves, have only increased the 
burdens of the already crushed working classes of 
England. That great sum has swollen the national 
debt, before so enormous, still more ; and there is 
some force in the saying of the Chartists, that the 
English people have paid the throne ^£20,000,000 
for sending ships to the colonies to bring back cast- 
aside negro fetters, to be fastened upon themselves 
at home. 

" These facts are known throughout the civilized 
world, and they detract from the credit of that act 
in the estimation of other nations. Consistency is 
one of the greatest reflex powers on earth ; and you 
cannot get the world to give you all the credit you 
claim for West India emancipation, as long as op 
pression weighs so heavily upon your own people. 

" I very well know that many who were the prin- 
cipal agents in effecting this emancipation, are la- 
bouring with equal zeal in overturning abuses at 

Vol. L^K 



110 GLORY AND SHAMK OF ENGLAND. 

home ; but during the few weeks I have been in 
England, I have been struck with the insensibihty 
of philanthropists here, to those terrible oppressions 
which lie like an incubus upon the mass of your 
people, and which render England so odious in the 
eyes of other enlightened and free nations. I only 
wish that the reformers who have accomplished the 
liberation of the negro, would go on and. subvert the 
great structure of East India despotism ; and at the 
same time deliver the English people from the gall- 
ing fetters which bind them and their children. 

" The government under which you live stands in 
great need of reformation. It is a government of 
privileges and monopolies ; ' the few are born,' as 
O'Connell says, 'booted and spurred, to ride over 
the many.' The working classes are degraded and 
oppressed. All but the privileged orders are taxed 
from their birth to their death. The midwife that 
assists in bringing the child into the world ; the 
swaddling clothes in which the infant is wrapped ; 
every mouthful of pap or of bread which it eats du- 
ring its journey through life ; every rag of clothes it 
puts on, and, at last, the winding-sheet and the cof- 
fin in which it is laid in its mother earth : all are 
taxed to pamper a haughty aristocracy, a political 
church, and the privileged orders. 

" And to the eye of an American there is some- 
thing in all this as hostile to the great principles of 
human rights and philanthropy, as there ever was in 
West India or any other slavery. I do not say this 



THOMAS CLARKSON, ]11 

in a censorious spirit ; I would not justify slavery in 
any part of the world, by English oppression ; but 
I am sorry the world should have so far lost the 
beneficial influence of the great act of colonial 
emancipation by the inconsistencies of Great Brit- 
ain." 

" Why, sir," he replied, " there is much in the 
state of English society which we all lament; but 
there is nothing like slavery ; nothing which can be 
called a direct violation of human rights ; nothing 
calculated to arouse the indignation or awaken the 
sympathy of a philanthropist, as in the untold 
abominations of American slavery." 

" I differ from you," I remarked, " on these points. 
I can prove from English documents which I have 
read (the Evidence on the Factory Bill, for exam- 
ple), that there are multitudes of the English opera- 
tives who labour more hoars a day, at harder and 
more prostrating work, with less food and poorer 
clothing, and subject to more abuse, than the Ameri- 
can slaves." 

By this time we had arrived at Freemasons' 
Hall. The venerable Thomas Clarkson was just 
getting out of his carriage, supported by two of his 
friends. He had come from his home in Ipswich, in 
his 81st year, to preside over " the World's Conven- 
tion." Tha Hall was filled with delegates from 
every part of the civilized world, and many of the 
most illustrious men of Europe were present. The 
Convention was called to order by Mr. Blair, late 



112 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Mayor of Bath, who stated that the venerable 
Thomas Clarkson had arrived, and would soon enter 
the Hall. The name of Clarkson called forth loud 
applause. We were requested, in consideration of 
his age and infirmities, to refrain from any manifesta- 
tion of our feelings when he should enter the Hall. 
The whole assembly was silent, and every eye turn- 
ed towards the door. The scene w^hich followed 
surpassed anything I ever witnessed. 

This venerable patriarch of liberty had left his 
quiet home in his old age, to meet the representatives 
of the different nations of the earth, to devise means 
for " the emancipation of man everywhere from the 
thraldom of man," and then go back to his peaceful 
retreat, and await his summons to Heaven. As he 
entered the Hall, supported by two distinguished 
gentlemen, and accompanied by his daughter-in-law 
and grandson, the Conveation rose and received him 
in silence. He seemed bowed down with age, and 
his hair was perfectly white. He was deeply af- 
fected by his reception ; and when he was proposed 
as chairman, there was a gentle murmur of approba- 
tion which could not be suppressed : he took his seat 
and held his handkerchief to his face. 

We all felt a veneration for the aged chieftain in 
our presence which words could not describe. We 
saw before us the man whose name had been asso- 
ciated for more than half a century with almost 
every great enterprise for the advancement of human 
liberty ; the originator, and now the only surviving 



YOUTHFUL GRANDSON OF CLARKSON. 113 

member of the first committee ever instituted for the 
abohtion of the slave-trade. Hoare, Smith, Dilwyn, 
Harrison, Phillips, and Wilberforce were all dead. 
This was probably the last great assembly in whose 
deliberations he would mingle ; and feeling that his 
time on earth was short, and under the impulse of 
freedom's fires, which burned on the altar of his 
heart as brightly as ever, he had brought his little 
grandson, Thomas Clarkson, into the Convention, the 
only representative of his family and name now on 
earth, to lay the beautiful boy in consecration upon 
freedom's altar on this his ninth birthday. It was a 
beautiful offering to the genius of liberty : a nobler 
dedication than when his father brought the young 
Hannibal to the altar, and made him swear eternal 
hostility to the enemies of Carthage. 

The gentleman who introduced the boy to the as- 
sembly laid his hand upon his head, and prayed that 
the blessing of Heaven might rest upon him, and 
that, with the descending mantle of his venerated an- 
cestor, he might catch a double portion of his spirit. 
" I am sure," said he, " that this prayer will find a 
response in every bosom in this assembly (cries of 
amen), as well as the earnest hope, that when some 
of us shall be removed to that bourne where the 
wicked cease from troubling, and where all distinc- 
tions of clime and colour will be swept forever away, 
he may live to see the day when the divine blessing 
shall so eminently have crowned this great cause of 
justice and mercy we have this day assembled to 
K2 



114 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

promote, that the sun shall cease to rise upon a ty- 
rant or set upon a slave." 

Clarkson then rose, and delivered a most affect- 
ing and eloquent address. Some parts of it vi^ere 
sublime. In alluding to himself, he said, " I can say 
with truth, I think, that although my body is fast go- 
ing to decay, my heart beats as warmly in this sacred 
cause now, in the 81st year of my age, as it did at 
the age of 24, when I first took it up. And I can 
say farther with truth, that if I had another life given 
me to live, I would ask no better fortune than to de- 
vote it all with firmer resolution and warmer zeal to 
the same glorious work of redeeming humanity from 
oppression." 

He closed with a benediction upon the assembly 
and the friends of human liberty throughout the 
world. When he sat down, I believe there was not 
a heart in the Convention that was not deeply moved, 
nor an eye that was not filled with tears. 

After a few moments of silence, the following let- 
ter from Lord Brougham was read : 

House of Lords, Thursday. 

Gentlemen : I am much honoured by the request 
which you have made to me through your deputa- 
tion this morning, that I would attend the meeting of 
delegates to-morrow. I assure you that it is very 
painful for me to be under the necessity of refusing. 
But the state of my health has been such for some 
time past, that I am barely able to discharge those 



LETTER FROM BROUGHAM. 115 

duties in this place from which I cannot withdraw ; 
and I have been compelled to lay down a rule 
against going to any public meeting whatever. Of 
all the instances in which I have been obliged to 
follow this rule, there is no one which has given me 
greater pain ; for I need hardly say how deeply I 
feel interested in whatever concerns the great cause 
which brings you together. I earnestly hope that 
all your proceedings may be guided by the same 
wisdom and animated by the same zeal which have, 
from the earliest period of the controversy, been dis- 
played by the friends of humanity and justice ; and 
I trust that, under the blessings of Providence con- 
tinued to their exertions, our earnest desires may 
finally be crowned with success. 

I have the honour to be, gentlemen. 

Your faithful and humble servant, 
Brougham. 

To the Committee of Management of Delegates. 

I have not for a long time felt so much disappoint- 
ed as when I learned that we should not have 
Brougham in this Convention. Such an occasion as 
this would have been a fine field for the display of 
his powers, and there was a general expectation that 
he would attend. 

After considerable time spent in settling the man- 
ner of conducting the business of the Convention, the 
chairman called upon Daniel O'Connell, who rose 
and said : 



116 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" This was a Convention the most important that 
ever assembled. (Hear.) To it came men from 
hundreds and thousands of miles distant ; not with a 
selfish motive, not even alone for the pride and pleas- 
ure of participating in the great and ennobling work, 
but from sincere philanthropy to the human race — 
(hear) — and it included delegates from all parts of 
the world, even from America; certainly from all 
parts of the British empire, and none ought to be 
exempt from co-operatien. (Hear.) In the chair 
he was happy to see the patriarch of liberty. (Hear, 
hear.) He was glad that the venerable gentleman 
had lived to see the brightening of a day, the dawn 
of which the fervour of his youth could scarcely have 
hoped to see. (Hear, hear.) His was the purest 
of all fame, that of doing good. (Hear, hear.) They 
were not met here only to talk or display talent ; 
that would be insufficient; they must direct their 
minds to some practical movement : Forward must 
be the word. (Hear, hear.) They must speedily 
adopt practical means for establishing correspond- 
ing and co-operating societies all over the world. 
(Hear, hear.) It was a gratifying thing to hear that 
/ Massachusetts had declared the first clause of Amer- 
IL^ ican independence to be utterly inconsistent with 
slavery, and on that ground alone it should be abol- 
ished. (Hear, hear.) At present it was only in the 
East Indies that slavery, under the British rule, ex- 
isted. There not only the labourers were slaves, hut 
the great mass of the population were serfs, com- 



L 



OCONNELLS SPEECH. 117 

pletely under the sway of the East India Company, 
to he ground down by the ' land-renf exactions at 
its will. (Hear, hear.) There should be a glorious 
combination of anti-slavery societies all over the 
world, and no motives should be allowed to mar the 
disinterested sincerity of their efforts. He was re- 
joiced to see their chairman among them. He was 
happy to find himself in a Convention, to the mem- 
bers of which no selfish motives could by any possi- 
bility be attributed. Let them persevere in their 
efforts, and they would raise the entire of the human 
race from a state of slavery and degradation to that 
liberty which was the best preparative for receiving 
the truths of Christianity and the blessings of civili- 
zation." 

At the close of O'Connell's speech the chairman 
was obliged to retire. The whole Convention rose, 
and as he left the Hall, leaning upon the arm of the 
Irish Orator, the feelings of the assembly were ex- 
pressed by the most enthusiastic applause. 

Then came up the " Woman Question ;" for you 
must know that about a dozen ladies have come 
more than three thousand miles to " have a finger in 
the pie." Some of them, without doubt, are exceed- 
ingly sensible and clever, and all confessedly pretty, 
except, perhaps, some few who have passed into 
" the sear and yellow leaf" of no particular age. 
It had been the desire, I believe, of most in the 
Convention to have nothing said about " woman's 
rights." It was feared that, once introduced, it 



118 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

would not be so readily disposed of. Several Eng- 
lish and American gentlemen, apprehending the re- 
sult, had waited upon the ladies with a request that 
they would not press their claims, and the Committee 
of Management had very politely given them tickets 
of admission, and showed them at their anti-slavery 
soirees the utmost attention. " We thank you, gen- 
tlemen," said they, " for all your civilities, but we 
cannot surrender our rights to British or American 
prejudices ; it is an age of emancipation ; and it is 
time for woman to break the fetters which have so 
long bound her. Shall we see our sisters enslaved, 
and not lift our voice for their redemption ? Womaji 
is in bondage ! woman is bought and sold ; and shall 
not woman's voice be heard in the ascending cry of 
the friends of humanity ? Yes, it shall be heard. 
We have not come three thousand miles to sign the 
warrant of woman's degradation ; to yield to that 
cruel spirit of proscription which shuts the mouth of 
woman when she thinks it her duty to plead for her 
enslaved sister. W^e can be gagged at home, gen- 
tlemen, without taking the trouble to cross the At- 
lantic. No ! we will present our credentials, and 
throw upon the Convention the responsibility of de- 
nying us our right to a seat." 

To the Convention they came ; where the question 
came up on the docket, and received a full and bois- 
terous discussion. Each side had some argument, 
considerable eloquence, and abundance of noise. 
The tumult and confusion exceeded all description. 



CONTEST WITH THE LADIES. 119 

Much of the time there were from ten to twenty per- 
sons trying to get the floor, screaming at the top of 
their voices. There were laughter, and smiles, and 
tears J there were groans, and shouts, and huzzas; 
there were beautiful faces pale with sorrow, and 
others flushed with passion ; and yet I do not quite 
like to say so, but the honesty of truth requires many 
a disagreeable task of the historian. 

Said the advocates of the fair philanthropists, 
"These ladies have come to this Convention with 
the same commissions as the men, signed by the 
same hands, and they have the same right to their 
seats." 

■ " Well," replied the Conservatives, or Anti- Wom- 
en-Men, or anything else you please to call them, 
" well, the committee who issued the call for the 
Convention did not intend to embrace the ladies." 

" Well ! pray who would you embrace, then?" (a 
very grave question, to be sure) : " we have been 
admitted to Conventions in America." 

" But here the case is different. Something is due 
to the customs of the country where you are. Eng- 
lishwomen do not complain because they are not al- 
lowed to deliberate in our assemblies." 

" They submit to it because they are slaves, then. 
Your customs are wrong, and we intend to correct 
them : we will have our rights." 

" But it is not a question of rights, but of proprie- 
ty. Is not something due t© the usages of English 
society ?" 



120 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND 

" It is the custom of India to enslave women ; of 
Turkey, to hive them up in harems ! Would y(m 
submit to the usages of such society ?" 

" Well ! well ! we don't call ourselves Hindus 
nor Turks : won't you pay some regard to our cus- 
toms ?" 

" Well, well ! we don't call ourselves slaves, and 
won't you pay some regard to human rights j not 
man's rights, but woman's rights too ?" 

" And thus between one side and t'other, 
The words flew thick as Thracian arrows." 

Said George Thompson, "I see before me that 
Spartan band of women who stood between me and 
death while I was in America. I cannot deny them 
their seats. Let them participate with us in this 
great and glorious work. Let their advice direct 
us. Let their sympathy and smiles encourage us. 
Let their devotion make us faithful." 

" But" (from all sides except from the ladies) 
" they are out of their sphere ; we would not exclude 
them from co-operating with us." (" Well, why deny 
us our seats, then ?") " We don't deny you your 
seats ! Have you not got your seats ? Are you not 
sitting in your seats ?" (Certainly not : for they had 
all risen, to have a good point of observation to 
know what was going on.) "No! we won't ex- 
clude them from this hallowed work" ("You do, 
you do!"); "but we would have them co-operate 
with us as do the women of England — sdently, but 
powerfully." 



DR. BOWERING S SPEECH. 121 

" Silently, indeed ! You would have us tongue- 
tied, would you ?" 

" No ! not if we could /" If you had been there, 

dear , you would have had no apprehensions 

that any member of the Convention was likely to 
be tongue-tied; though it would have helped the 
business of the meeting wonderfully if about five 
hundred tongues could have been tied. 

Said Dr. Bowering, the accomplished Oriental 
scholar and elegant debater, " I blush to think that 
English philanthropists, who have had the sunshine 
of popular favour thrown around their path, and 
been loudly applauded for all their zeal, should so 
violate the high considerations of a lofty humanity, 
as to exclude from this Convention that noble band 
of women who have laboured so long and so faith- 
fully in America for the down-trodden slave — op- 
posed as they have been by a thousand obstacles we 
have never been obliged to contend with — assailed 
by violence and covered with abuse ; yet boldly and 
bravely defending the sublime principles of justice, 
mercy, and truth. What! tell women who have 
displayed a magnanimity and a high daring that Spar- 
ta's sons even might have been proud of in Sparta's 
best days j women, who have been foremost in dan- 
ger, leading the van in the battles of humanity, that 
they cannot be permitted to sit down and mingle in 
our sympathies and councils, and exult with us over 
our triumphs! God for^ A, that while all this is 
true, Englishmen, who have sung hozannas to their 

Vol.. T.— L 



122 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

sovereign queen, who is the mistress of the bravest 
of us, should exclude the fearless and beautiful 
daughters of free and glorious America from sitting 
with us, side by side, in this Convention. If we 
deny them their request, we shall, on the threshold 
of our proceedings, do violence to the spirit of liber- 
ty which brought us together, and draw down upon 
us the just indignation of the world." 

Dr. Bowering's speech electrified the whole house. 
He resumed his seat amid loud and general cheer- 
ing. The sympathies of the Convention were evi- 
dently on the side of the ladies ; and if the question 
had been taken then, I am well satisfied they would 
have gained their point. But able and eloquent 
speakers followed on the other side, and they carried 
the Convention along with them. 

The Rev. John Angel James, of Birmingham, was 
particularly eloquent. He closed by saying, " I hope, 
sir, the question will now be taken, that we may de- 
vote no more time to the discussion of a point which 
is, after all, a matter of little consequence. I am 
glad, and so is all England, to see the daughters of 
America in this Hall. I promise them, that wherever 
they go in their father-land, from Land's End to 
Jonny Groat's, they will find warm hearts, ready 
to welcome them, and in the name of humanity to 
thank them for leaving their homes to visit Great 
Britain, and cheer the friends of the negro race for- 
ward. Let us give the American ladies a post of 
honour in this Hall. Let us mingle our sympathies 
together over a prostrate race. Let us pour out our 



DEFEAT OF THE LADIES. 123 

prayers at the cross of a common Sariour, for the 
salvation of a world he died to save. We claim no 
superiority above them ; we are always glad to be 
excelled by them in the noble work of making our 
fellow-men free. They have laboured long and 
well ; and they have their reward in an approving 
conscience, the gratitude of enchained millions, the 
love of the whole philanthropic world, and the fa- 
vour of Heaven. Let us now address ourselves to 
the great work before us — the rescue of prostrate 
humanity. And I hope and believe that this scene 
of confusion we have witnessed here to-day will in 
the end have the same happy effect as those dis- 
cords which are sometimes introduced by composers 
into their best pieces, only to render the harmony the 
sweeter." This was the substance of the speaker's 
remarks. 

The effect was irresistible. It soothed the feelings 
of all parties, like oil poured on the troubled waters. 
By a large majority the ladies were defeated. But 
they bore their misfortune with so much meekness 
and grace (most of them), it was confessed by all 
they had conquered, although for once they lost their 
point. Still, they ought not to complain ; for the best 
historians in the Convention declared it to be the 
only instance of the kind recorded in the annals of 
the sex. 

I was introduced to the celebrated Mrs. Ameha 
Opie, who is now enjoying a green old age. She 
lives in Norwich, about 120 miles east of London, 



124 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

but, like everybody else, is spending " the season" 
in town. She long ago adopted the simple faith, and 
plain, rich costume of the Society of Friends, and 
suppressed several of her fictitious works, from con- 
scientious scruples in regard to their influence. But 
she is possessed of unbounded cheerfulness, and is 
certainly a delightful woman. I do not know her 
age, but she must be over seventy, I think, although 
her cheek still w^ears the rich bloom of earlier years. 

I conversed with her a few minutes. She asked 
me what I thought of the " decision." I replied, 
that the ladies certainly could not be offended, al- 
though they probably did not feel complimented by 
the vote ; but I thought they should not complain 
of this solitary instance of defeat. 

" Indeed," said she, " I have a great sympathy for 
them, and hope their feelings are not wounded. 
I think they are very noble women ; but perhaps 
it was not very discreet to insist so strongly upon 
admission. 

" It is very painful to think that your great and free 
republic should be desecrated by slavery. It is very 
lamentable. It is like some odious blemish on a 
beautiful painting ; the eye would contemplate the 
beauties of the picture, but it cannot : the blemish 
fills the vision. Oh ! I hope I shall live to see the 
day when there will not be a slave in all your beau- 
tiful land. It has been the home of freedom ; there is 
no such land on earth ; and this makes it so indescri 
bably painful to think that it is a land of slaves." 



CONVERSATION WITH MRS. OPIE. 125 

"You have never visited our country, I think, 
madam V 

" No, I have not ; but there is no part of the 
world I so much desire to see. It is a great pleas- 
ure to meet so many Americans here on this grand 
occasion. I never looked forward to a public meet- 
ing with so much hope. I well remember many 
years ago, when the first efforts were made by the 
friends of liberty for the suppression of the slave- 
trade. It was a dark day then for the world ; and, 
although philanthropists are quite apt to be too san- 
guine, yet who in this assembly ever expected to see 
such a day as this 1 It is a very sublime spectacle 
to see this representation of the philanthropy and 
piety of the world. What can be more grand than 
to contemplate the object which has called this Con- 
vention together ? And that idea of 0' Connell's 
was so fine — that we would elevate the whole hu- 
man race to the possession of liberty — it is an affect- 
ing thought. 

" But you will come and see me, I trust ; I want 
to converse with you about America, your authors, 
your scenery, your great men. I shall be most happy 
to see you at any time you can make it convenient to 
call. Do not think that age has quite frozen up my 
heart. Indeed, if it had, I think this Convention 
would make it green as spring-time again." 
Affectionately yours, 

L2 



126 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 



London, June — , 1840. 

Dear , 

To-day Lady Byron and Mrs. Jamieson came into 
the Convention. I had the pleasure of an introduc- 
tion to them, and also of listening to what was far 
more interesting to me than much of the business of 
the meeting — a deeply affecting account of the last 
illness and death of Lord Byron, from an American 
gentleman, who spent the winter of 1823, '24 in 
Greece. 

Lady Byron resembles very much the picture 
which appeared a few years ago in Dearborn's edi- 
tion of Byron's works, painted by Newton and en- 
graved by Dick. I think she never could have 
been handsome, though there is an interesting and 
rather mournful expression upon her countenance. 
But her relation to Byron causes us to feel towards 
her as we feel towards few other persons. She is 
understood to be particularly intimate with Mrs. 
Jamieson. " Ada" a few years ago married Lord 
King, who has since become the Marquis of Love- 
less. Mrs. Jamieson is finer looking by far than 
Lady Byron ; indeed, she has one of the noblest 
countenances I ever saw. 

"A sight of Lady Byron," said the American 
gentleman alluded to, " brings vividly to my mind 
the intercourse I had with Byron just before he 



BYRON IN GREECE. 127 

died. I can give you an account of his last days, 
which I think will interest you. 

" I passed the winter of Byron's death in Greece ; 
and in the latter part of February went to Misso- 
longhi to see him. He wa-s then suffering from the 
effect of his fit of epilepsy, which occurred the mid- 
dle of February. The first time I called at his resi- 
dence I was not permitted to see him ; but in a few 
days I received a polite note from him at the hand 
of his negro servant, who was a native of America, 
and whom Byron was kind to and proud of to the 
last. 

" I found the poet in a weak and rather irritable 
state, but he treated me with the utmost kindness. 
He said, that at the time I first called upon him, all 
strangers and most of his friends were excluded 
from his room. ' But,' said he, ' had I known an 
American was at the door, you should not have 
been denied. I love your country, sir ; it is the land 
of libeiiy : the only portion of God's green earth 
not desecrated by tyranny.' 

" In our conversation I alluded to the sympathy at 
that time felt in America for struggling Greece. 
All he at that time said in reply was, ' Poor Greece 
— poor Greece : once the richest land on earth ; 
God knows I have tried to help thee.' 

•' You will remember that but a httle while befoi-e 
this, Marco Botzaris had fallen. When I mentioned 
his name, Byron said, ' Marco Botzaris ? He was 
as brave as an ancient Spartan. Perhaps he had 



128 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the blood of Leonid as in his veins ; I presume he 
had. But of this I am certain, he had as good 
blood as ever wet this soil.' 

"At his request, his servant then brought him a 
rose-wood box, from which he took a letter written 
to himself by that gallant chief. It was a warm- 
hearted welcome of Byron to Greece. 'There,' 
said the author of ' Childe Harold,' as he handed 
the precious relic to me, ' I would not part with 
that but to see the triumph of Greece. That glo- 
rious hero, but a few moments before he led his Su- 
liot band forth to his last battle, wrote this letter to 
me in his tent.' As he spoke these words, a heroic 
smile lit up his pale countenance, and I am sure I 
never saw such an expression on the face of mortal 
man as at that moment flashed from Byron's. 

" Soon he fell back upon his couch, and wiping 
the cold sweat from his lofty forehead, once more 
exclaimed, ' Poor Greece ! God bless thee and Ada ! 
I only ask of Heaven two things ; and Heaven ought 
to grant them — that Greece may become free, and 
Ada cherish my memory when I am dead.' 

" I was surprised that Byron should so freely ex- 
press his sentiments to a stranger ; but a little knowl- 
edge of the man explained it all. He was one who 
concealed nothing from friend or foe : he M'as fear- 
less of the world, and open and independent to a 
fault. 

" In a few days I received another note from him, 
requesting me to call and bring with me Irving's 



BYRON AND THE "BROKEN HEART." 129 

Sketch Book, if I had it, or could get it for' him. 
As that is a book I always carry with me, I took it 
in my hand and went once more to the illustrious 
author's residence. He rose from his couch when I 
entered, and pressing my hand warmly, said, ' Have 
you brought the Sketch Book V I handed it to him, 
when, seizing it with enthusiasm, he turned to the 
' Broken Heart.' 

" ' That,' said he, ' is one of the finest things ever 
written on earth, and I want to hear an American 
read it. But stay — do you know Irving V I re- 
plied that I had never seen him. ' God bless him !' 
exclaimed Byron ; ' he is a genius ; and he has 
something better than genius — a heart ! I wish I 
could see him ; but I fear I never shall. Well, 
read — the Broken Heart — yes, the Broken Heart. 
What a word !' 

" When I closed the first paragraph, ' Shall I con- 
fess it? I believe in broken hearts' — 'Yes,' ex- 
claimed Byron, ' and so do I ; and so does everybody 
but philosophers and fools.' I waited, whenever he 
interrupted me, until he requested me to go on ; for 
although the text is beautiful, yet I cared more for 
the commentary which came fresh from Byron's 
heart. While I was reading one of the most touch- 
ing portions of that mournful piece, I observed that 
Byron wept. He turned his fine eyes upon me and 
said, ' You see me weep, sir ; Irving himself never 
wrote that story without weeping ; nor can I hear 
it without tears. I have not wept much in this 



130 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

world, for trouble never brings tears to my eyes; 
but I always have tears for the Broken Heart.' 

" When I read the last line of Moore's verses at 
the close of the piece, Byron said, ' What a being 
that Tom Moore is ; and Irving, and Emmett, and 
his beautiful Love ! What beings all ! Sir, how 
many such men as Washington Irving are there in 
America ? God don't send many such spirits into 
this world. I want to go to America for five rea- 
sons. I want to see Irving ; I want to see your stu- 
pendous scenery ; I want to go to Washington's 
grave ; I want to see the classic form of living free- 
dom, and I want to get your government to recog- 
nise Greece as an independent nation. Poor Greece !' 
I have always been anxious to see Irving, and de- 
scribe this scene to him. He does not need even 
Byron's praise, I know ; still I think it w^ould please 
him ; but in this wish I have never been gratified. 

" I saw the Great Poet often, and never was with 
him half an hour without hearing him speak of 
Greece and his child — of both with the deepest feel- 
ing. Byron was a very strange man ; if he had 
only been as good as he was great ! But he was 
good sometimes ; and always better than the world 
have thought him. 

" Those were the last days of Byron ; and I shall 
always consider myself happy that I was permitted 
so often to be with him. I have, day after day, 
watched the workings of his lofty imagination, while 
he lay upon his couch or sat by his window, and 



byron's last illness. 131 

deep, troubled thought lit up with an unearthly glow 
his beautiful features, or clouded them in gloom. It 
was a painful spectacle to see Byron's form wasting 
away by disease ; and I never gazed upon him after 
we first met, without feeling as I think I should feel 
to see a powerful stream undermining in its progress 
the foundations of some classic temple. 

" It was inexpressibly painful ; but yet there was 
something very sublime in the struggle of his proud 
spirit with the advancing king of terrors. His full, 
bright eye, which sometimes burned so restlessly, 
revealed a spirit free, tameless, and unconquerable 
as the proud ocean. 

" At the time I did not doubt, nor have I ever 
since, that his death was hastened, if not directly 
caused, by the injudicious treatment of his medical 
council. Byron had partly recovered from his first 
attack, and was in the habit of riding on horseback 
almost every day. On the 9th of April he got very 
wet during his ride, and took a severe cold, which 
was attended by fever ; still he rode out again in 
the afternoon of the following day a few miles from 
town, on his favourite horse ; and this was the last 
time he ever left the house. A slow fever set in, and 
his symptoms continually grew worse. 

" His medical attendants confidently told him that 
he was in no danger ; that his disease was only a 
common cold. Mr. Fletcher, his confidential and ex- 
cellent servant, informed me, that in the early part 
of his master'15 illness he became alarmed, but that 



132 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Byron himself did not display much anxiety until he 
had been ill some days. The physicians were often 
consulted by Byron and his servant minutely about 
the symptoms, and they very confidently assured 
them that ' there was no danger — it was but a com- 
mon cold.' 

" But the sick man knew it was not a common 
cold, and very often expressed the opinion that the 
doctors did not understand his disease. Mr. Fletcher 
said he was very anxious to send to Zante for Dr. 
Thomas ; for his master was all the time growing 
worse under the treatment of Doctors Bruno and 
Millingen. This desire, with Byron's approbation, 
was made known to the council ; and, for a time, 
they partially quieted the well-grounded fears of 
Mr. Fletcher and his master. In a day or two Mr. 
Fletcher again supplicated the attending physicians 
to let him send for Dr. Thomas, and was solemnly 
assured his lordship would be better immediately. 
These stifled efforts were not again renewed until it 
was too late. 

" But in regard to the treatment. I know it is com- 
mon for friends of the dead to censure their physi- 
cians ; and nothing can be more unjust when they 
do not deserve it. But the conduct of Byron's phy- 
sicians was exceedingly culpable in not permitting 
Dr. Thomas to be called. Besides, they dosed Byron 
from the beginning of his illness with strong purga- 
tive medicines ; took a great amount of blood from 
him, which for a long time he firmly refused to have 



BYRON A VICTIM TO QUACKERY. 133 

done. His system wasted rapidly ; for during the 
eight days of his illness he took no nourishment ex- 
cept a small quantity of broth, at two or three dif- 
ferent times, and two spoonfuls of arrowroot the day 
before his death. 

" And yet it was only a ' common cold.' Well, 
if this were true, then the medical treatment killed 
him, and not the disease ; and the physicians told 
Byron they were prescribing only for a cold. In 
either case they are worthy of censure. 

" On the seventh day of his illness, after the most 
powerful purgatives had been resorted to, and he 
seemed to be rapidly declining, the physicians in- 
sisted upon taking blood; he reluctantly yielded, 
and one pound was taken from his right arm. Mr. 
Fletcher then renewed his prayer to send for Dr. 
Thomas, and was met by the reply, that his master 
would either be much better, or a dead man, before 
Dr. Thomas could come from Zante, for his lordship 
was sinking every hour. The physicians insisted 
upon bleeding again that same night, and told him 
it would probably save his life. ' Oh !' said Byron, 
with a mournful countenance, ' I fear, gentlemen, 
you have entirely mistaken my disease ; but there, 
take my arm and do as you like.' Infatuation, as 
well as quackery, seemed to conspire against the life 
of the illustrious patient. 

"The next morning, although he was in a very 

feeble state, the doctors bled him again twice ; and in 

both cases fainting fits followed the operation. At 
V^OL. I.— M 



134 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

two o'clock this destructive operation was performed 
again; and thus he was hurried to the grave. No 
man could be expected to survive such treatment. 

".From that time till his death, which occurred 
two days after, Byron often expressed great dissatis- 
faction with his physicians. 

" The day before he died, the faithful Fletcher, 
for the last time, implored his master to let him, even 
at that late hour, and without the knowledge of his 
physicians, send an express to Zante ' Do so,' said 
Byron, ' but be quick; I wish you had sent sooner; 
for I know they have mistaken my disease.' 

" Fletcher instantly sent for Dr. Thomas, and then 
informed the attending physicians, who said, ' You 
have done right;' for they had begun, when too 
late, to discover their mistake. When Fletcher re- 
turned to his master's room, Byron asked him if he 
had sent to Zante. ' You have done right,' he an- 
swered ; ' if I must die, I want to know w^hat is the 
matter with me.' 

" ' In a few hours,' said the faithful Fletcher, as he 
related these facts to me, ' my master called me to 
his bedside and said, " I begin to think I am going 
to die pretty soon, Fletcher ; and I shall give you 
several directions, which I hope you will be particu- 
lar to execute, if you love me !"' 

" Fletcher did love his master, and told him he 
would do everything faithfully, and expressed the 
hope that he should not be called to part with him. 
*Yes, you will,' said Byron; 'it's nearly over; I 



byron's last words. 135 

must tell you all without losing a moment. I see 
my time has Come to die.' 

" Fletcher went to get a portfolio to write down 
his master's words. Byron called him back, exclaim- 
ing, ' Oh, my God ! don't waste time in writing, for 
I have no moro. time to waste — now hear me — yoic 
will be provided for.' Fletcher begged him to go 
on to things of more consequence, and Byron con- 
tinued : ' Oh ! my poor, dear child ! My dear Ada ! 
My God ! could I but have seen her ! Give her my 
blessing, and my dear sister Augusta and her chil- 
dren ; and you will go to Lady Byron and say — tell 
her everything — you are friends with her' — and tears 
rolled down his emaciated face. 

"Here his voice failed him, so that only now and 
then a word was audible. For some time he mut- 
tered something very seriously, and finally, raising 
his voice, said, ' Now, Fletcher, if you do not execute 
every order I have given you, I will torment you 
hereafter, if possible.' 

" Poor Fletcher wept over his dying master, and 
told him he had not understood a word of what he 
had been last saying. ' Oh ! my God !' said Byron, 
^then all is lost; for it is now too late. Can it be 
possible you have not understood me V Fletcher 
said, ' No ; but do tell me again, more dearly, my 
lord !' ' How can I V answered Byron ; ' it's now 
too late, and all is over !' Fletcher replied, ' Not 
our will, but God's be done ;' and he answered, 
* Yes, not mine be done ! but I will try once more j' 



^v 



136 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and he made several efforts to speak ; but, through 
the indistinct mutterings of the dying man, only a 
few broken accents could be distinguished, and they 
were about his wife and his child. 

"After many ineffectual and painful efforts to 
make known his wishes, at the request of his friend, 
Mr. Parry, to compose himself, he shed tears, and 
apparently sunk into slumber, with an expression of 
grief and disappointment on his countenance. This 
was the commencement of the lethargy of death. 

"I believe the last words the Great Poet ever 
spoke on earth were, ' I must sleep now.' How full 
of meaning those words W'ere. Yes, he had laid 
himself down to his last sleep. For twenty-four 
hours not a hand or foot of the sleeper was seen to 
stir; although that heart, which had been the home 
of such wild and deep feeling, still continued to beat 
on. Yet it was evident to all around his bedside 
that ' the angel of death' had spread his dark wings 
over Byron's pillow. 

" On the evening of the 19th of April he opened 
his fine eye for the last time, and closed it peaceful- 
ly, without any appearance of pain. ' Oh, my God !' 
exclaimed the kind Fletcher, ' I fear my master is 
gone!' The doctors then felt his pulse, and said, 
' You are right — he is gone.' 

"It is impossible to describe the sensation pro- 
duced at Missolonghi by the death of Lord Byron. 
All Greece, too, was plunged in tears. Every pub- 
lic demonstration of respect and sorrow was paid to 



BYRON S FUNERAL. 137 

his memory, by firing minute guns, closing all public 
offices and shops, and suspending the usual Easter 
festivities, and by a general mourning and funeral 
prayers in all the churches. His body was embalm- 
ed by the physicians, and preparations were made 
for taking it to England. 

" A few days after his death, his honoured remains 
were borne to the church where the body of Marco 
Botzaris was buried. The coffin was a rude chest 
of wood; a black mantle was his only pall; and 
over it were placed a helmet, a sword, and a crown 
of laurel. 

" Here the bier rested for two days ; and around 
it gathered a thousand noble hearts who had loved 
the generous poet. 

" I stood by that coffin a long time ; and more 
tears were shed over it than I ever saw fall upon 
the dust of a great man. But the simple-heart- 
ed, grateful people who crowded the church loved 
him, not as the author of Childe Harold's Pilgrim 
age, but as the disinterested Benefactor of Greece. 
A detachment of his own brigade guarded his body. 
There was something indescribably more aflfecting 
and sublime in this spectacle than in the gorgeous 
display which usually attends the funeral obsequies 
of the great. 

" I remained in the church until the shadows of 

night had fallen around that solemn place ; and there 

could be seen the rude forms of the descendants of 

Platgea relieved against the walls, their armour 

M2 



138 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

gleaming in the uncertain light of the wax candles 
burning before the altar, and in the centre of the 
church a group of emancipated Greeks bending over 
that illustrious dust. It was all in keeping with the 
poet's own wild, wayward soul. 

" I have known but few I loved so well as Byron ; 
and from his kindness to me, stranger as I was, I 
felt that I had lost a friend." 

After hstening to this affecting story, I felt little 
like remaining in a crowd ; and taking my compan- 
ion's arm, we cast one glance upon her whom Byron 
once loved so well, and left the hall. — " Poor Byron !" 
Affectionately yours, 



LETTER TO WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. 139 



To William Ellery Charming, D.D. 

Manchester, 1840. 

Sir, 

There is no man who feels a deeper or more gen- 
erous sympathy than yourself for humanity in its 
sorrows, struggles, and advancement ; no one who 
has more faith in its capacity for elevation, or respect 
for its greatness. I do not address this letter to you 
because I expect to be able to communicate any in- 
formation of which you are not already possessed j 
nor have I supposed I could reflect any new lustre 
upon your genius or your fame : far from it. I 
do it because the matters upon which I shall speak 
so immediately affect the interests of millions of the 
race, to whose redemption you have devoted your 
best powers, and so large a portion of your life. 

If we may judge of your heart by the spirit of 
your writings, that beautiful saying of Terrence is 
as true of you, as of him to whom it was first ap- 
plied: Homo sum, nihil humani a me alienum 
puto. Besides, the philosophy which you have 
gained from no shallow meditation or common 
learning, will enable you to decide if my remarks 
are entitled to any consideration. 

The deep depression of the mass of the English 
people has surprised and grieved me exceedingly 



140 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

since I have been in Great Britain. In common 
with every other American, I had long known that 
great abuses existed in the government of this coun- 
try, and that the poverty, ignorance, and suffering 
of the lower classes were extreme ; but I was not 
prepared to find such a state of things as I have 
witnessed. 

I think Americans, generally, have no adequate 
idea of the wretchedness of the poor of this island. 
Tourists have passed in stage-coaches, or in private 
carriages, over the smooth roads and along the 
hawthorn hedgerows of this beautiful land ; they 
have seen the gray towers and pinnacles of old cas- 
/ ties and churches rising from verdant lawns or 
S crowning green hills ; they have told us much about 
parks and pleasure-grounds, gardens and ruins; 
they have spoken of the moss-covered cottages of 
the peasantry — ^"Trellises nailed between the little 
windows ; roses quite overshadowing the low doors ; 
the painted fence enclosing the hand's breadth of 
grassplat j very, oh ! very sweet faces bent over 
laps full of work, beneath the snowy and looped-up 
curtains : it was all home-like and amiable ; there 
was an affectionateness in the mere outside of every 
one of them ; and the soul of neatness pervaded 
them all j" and, to crown the picture, rosy-cheek- 
ed children were sporting away life's early morn 
amid fragrance and flowers. At every step the 
traveller witnessed some new landscape of rural 
peace and beauty. We have dwelt upon these de- 



LUXURIES OF ENGLAND. 141 

scriptions till the very heart ached to gaze on scenes 
of so much lovehness for ourselves, 

England furnishes us with numberless luxuries ; 
we are clothed like princes in her rich fabrics ; and 
such bright images of commercial prosperity and 
agricultural plenty crowd upon the mind when we 
think of our " father-land," that we fancy it must 
be a paradise. A paradise indeed it is for the high- 
er classes ; and a paradise it will be for them, unti. 
the sword of vengeance which now sleeps in the 
hands of an oppressed people, shall at length awake 
to its terrible work, and revolution establish her tri- 
bunal, not to hear causes, but to decide them. 

In no country on earth is there such a field for en- 
joyment and luxury. Everything which wealth can 
purchase or ingenuity invent is brought to the doors 
of English magnates. Their houses are surrounded 
by gardens in which cool fountains are playing, and 
where flowers, brought from every land, are courted 
by artificial heat and the tenderest care, to bloom in 
this cold region. There is not a climate from the 
equator to the poles that does not send its delicacies 
to the homes of the rich. On every side the Eng- 
lishman finds choice books, museums of science, and 
literary society. Nothing is left unsatisfied but the 
feverish desire for something which even an English 
home cannot gratify. And these are the pictures 
travellers have presented to us. 

But it has been well said by an Englishman him- 
self, that " To talk of English happiness is like talk- 



142 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ing of Spartan freedom — the Helots are overlook- 
ed." 

But the mass of hearts beat in the bosoms of the 
poor (the Helots of this coimtry), whose every de- 
sire is ungratified but the wish to hide away in the 
still, kind grave, from 

" The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely." 

In no country can such wealth be acquired. But it 
is the one who grows rich by the labour of the hun- 
dred; and that hundred as wonderfully fashioned by 
nature ; with hearts which can feel as deep anguish 
and as pure joy; all made by the same kind Father; 
and regarded with the same love by " Him who is no 
respecter of persons." To enrich the yew, the many 
are sacrificed. One painful consideration affects 
the mind of every American whenever he contem- 
plates the condition of the mass of the English peo- 
ple. The government, with its privileges and protec- 
tion ; the throne, with its power and patronage ; the 
institutions for science and truth ; and those facilities 
for happiness and elevation which have sprung from 
a high civilization, all are intended for the few 
The majority receive no more advantage from these 
things than as though they had never been. 

He must be a superficial observer of the state of 
society here, who does not discover that, just in pro- 
portion as the higher classes advance in wealth, 
power, and influence, are the poor depressed. What 
is gained by the few is lost by the many. If the 
landholder grows rich, his jDOckets are filled by the 



PRACTICAL SLAVERY OF THE POOR. 143 

odious and unjust tax upon the necessaries of life, 
which falls chiefly upon the poor. If the Manchester 
manufacturer amasses a colossal fortune by under- 
selling his competitors in every market in the world, 
it is because his dependant operatives do not receive 
a fair compensation for their labour. If the bishop 
rolls in wealth, his luxuries are the price of the hun- 
ger and nakedness of thousands in his diocese. If 
a Lord-lieutenant of Ireland throws up his commis- 
siori after a month's administration, and retires to a 
chateau on the Continent on j65000 a year, this sum 
is wrung from the starving peasantry of that misgov- 
erned Island. 

It would have been far better for the poor of Eng- 
land if their country had never attained her present 
commercial eminence ; for every step of her advance- 
ment has crushed them deeper in poverty. You 
will, of course, sir, not understand me to apply these 
remarks universally : I am speaking of a general 
principle. 

One of the chief elements of slavery mingles in 
the condition of the English operative : he does not 
receive a fair equivalent for his labour j and, in ad- 
dition, unjust legislation places a tax upon the ne- 
cessaries of life so high, that a very large proportion 
of his scanty wages goes to his oppressors. 

The life of an English operative is a perpetual 
scene of suffering and wrong. He enters upon his 
task- work while he is yet a child. In his infancy he 
begins to fall under the curse which this state of soci- 



144 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ety inflicts. Let me here quote the words of Southey 
in Espriella's Letters — a work with which you are 
famiUar : " They are deprived in childhood of all in- 
struction and all enjoyment ; of the sports in which 
childhood instinctively indulges ; of fresh air by day, 
and of natural sleep by night. Their health, phys- 
ical and moral, is alike destroyed ; they die of dis- 
eases induced by unremitting task-work ; by confine- 
ment in the impure atmosphere of crowded rooms ; 
by the particles of metallic or vegetable dust which 
they are continually inhaling ; or they live to grow 
up without decency, without comfort, and without 
hope ; without morals, without religion, and without 
shame ; and bring forth slaves, like themselves, to 
tread in the same path of misery. 

"The dwellings of the labouring manufacturers 
are in narrow streets and lanes, blockaded up from 
light and air ; crowded together, because every inch 
of land is of such value that room for light and air 
cannot be aiforded them. Here in Manchester, a 
great proportion of the poor lodge in cellars damp 
and dark, where every kind of filth is suffered to ac- 
cumulate, because no exertions of domestic care can 
ever make such homes decent. Those places are so 
many hot-beds of infection, and the poor in large 
towns are rarely or never without an infectious fever 
among them ; a plague of their own, which leaves 
the habitations of the rich, like a Goshen of cleanli- 
ness and comfort, unvisited. 

*' Wealth flows into the country, but how does it 



INCREASING NUMBERS OF THE POOR. 145 

circulate there 1 Not equally and healthfully through 
the whole system ; it sprouts into wens and tumours, 
and collects in aneurisms, which starve and palsy the 
extremities. The government, indeed, raises mill- 
ions as easily as it raised thousands in the days of 
Elizabeth ; the metropolis is six times the size which 
it was a century ago ; it has nearly doubled during 
the present reign (1802). A thousand carriages 
drive about the streets of London, where, three gen- 
erations ago, there were not a hundred ; a thousand 
hackney-coaches are licensed in the same city, where, 
at the same distance of time, there was not one ; they 
whose grandfathers dined at noon from wooden 
trenchers, and from the produce of their own farms, 
sit down by the light of waxen tapers to be served 
upon silver, and to partake of delicacies from the 
four quarters of the globe. 

" But the numbers of the poor and the sufferings 
of the poor have continued to increase ; the price of 
everything they consume has always been advan- 
cing, and the price of labour, the only commodity 
they have to dispose of, remains the same. Work- 
houses are erected in one place, and infirmaries in 
another ; the poor-rates increase in proportion to the 
taxes ; and in times of dearth the rich even purchase 
food, and retail it to them at a reduced price, or sup- 
ply them with it gratuitously ; still every year adds 
to their number. 

" Necessity is the mother of crime ; new prisons 
are built, new punishments are enacted; but the 

Vol. I.— N 



146 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

poor become year after year more numerous, more 
miserable, and more depraved; and this is the inevi- 
table tendency of the manufacturing system." 

Perhaps it should have been added, " as it is now 
conducted in Great Britain;" for all true political 
economists know, that labour becomes valuable and 
productive, in proportion as the labouring class- 
es advance in physical improvement. It is poor 
economy for a nation to wear out the bones and 
muscles of its labourers by oppressive taxes and 
prostrating toil ; since it must in the end inevitably 
impoverish the people which inflicts the wrong. 

Said one of the sages of Greece, " Show me a 
country where a people are happy, and I will at the 
same time show you one where they are virtuous." 
Said a celebrated forger, who was executed in Lon- 
don not long ago, in a letter to a friend before he 
committed the deed which cost him his life, " I must 
have money from you, or do worse ; for God knows 
I cannot starve.'' 

The words of Dr. Southey have a still deeper 
meaning now than when they were first written : 
"New prisons are built, and new punishments are 
enacted." The English government experience at 
last a reaction upon themselves for their oppression. 
Society feels in every part the pressure of the emer- 
gency. Millions are given in charity ; thousands of 
poor children are educated in private schools by the 
benevolence of the good ; hundreds of thousands em- 
igrate to America, and the foreign possessions of 



JUSTICE DENIED THE PEOPLE. 147 

the empire ; waste lands are reclaimed ; a stupen- 
dous system of domestic industry employs millions 
of operatives ; every expedient individuals and gov- 
ernment can devise is resorted to, except the only 
one which can ultimately avail — granting the peo- 
ple JUSTICE. The poor are becoming " more nu- 
merous, more miserable, and more depraved." 

Chartism numbers its million and a half on one 
single petition to Parliament j trades-unions are more 
numerous, and the revolutionary spirit is becoming 
more and more difficult to control : the national 
mind is heaving under a sense of outrage; of vi- 
olated rights ; of injustice to man as a creature of 
God, entitled to his share of God's blessings in the 
world ; and these must continue to be the results 
of the present blind policy of the English govern- 
ment. 

The aristocracy of wealth, birth, and influence 
(with a few exceptions), are unwilling to remove the 
heavy burdens they have bound upon the backs of 
the people ; and, appalled by the results of misgov- 
ernment and oppression; by the crimes, suffering, 
degradation, and discontent of the lower classes, they 
are seeking every day for some new contrivance to 
counteract the effects of their own wrong-doing. 

When the confused and maddened roar of the 
people becomes at length so loud that it can be 
heard in the palace ; and ominous signs which are 
not to be mistaken appear, then the government 
brings in some relief measure, so called ; passes a 



148 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

reform bill, after the public feeling is so deeply stir- 
red that some Macauley is heard to say in his place, 
" You can evade the question no longer ; for through 
Parliament, or out of Parliament, this bill must and 
will pass." But I believe Parliament has never on 
such occasions given to the people any more liberty 
or justice than they vv'ere obliged to ; conceding just 
enough to bribe the masses into silence for the 
time. This is the policy of men who tame wild 
beasts : they give them food to stop their savage 
ravings, but enfeeble them by hunger as much as 
they dare, that they may be the more easily control- 
led. 

Would free Americans brook such a government 1 
Would you be able to stop the mouths of Lowell 
operatives by half a supply of bread ? You could, 
no doubt, if they had never been accustomed to 
more. Men may become so inured to oppression 
that they will endure a vast amount of injustice and 
wrong without complaining. What then must be 
the burdens under which the English people groan, 
when they who have for ages been accustomed to 
submit to oppression will bear it no longer 1 Par- 
liament has never yet granted the subjects of the 
British crown even what are called "inalienable 
rights" with us^ much less has it secured to them 
the quiet and permanent possession of those privileges 
which the Christianity and civilization of modern 
times ought to bestow There are many of the mid- 
dle classes, and a few among the aristocracy, who 



INSUFFICIENCY OF PRIVATE CHARITY. 149 

do what they can to remedy the evils of imperial 
misrule. But what substantial relief can the starv- 
ing millions of England experience from the chari- 
ties of the few 1 

These charities are often generous ; but when 
government assumes the protection of the people, is 
it expected that liberal individuals, by extending pri- 
vate aid to a few, can remedy the evils of the mis- 
government of the whole 1 A humane and Chris- 
tian nobleman may employ five hundred of the idle 
and the poor who can buy bread with their labour 
nowhere else, in cutting down a hill to improve his 
landscape, and feed and clothe them and their wives 
and children ; this is well, for there is more benevo- 
lence in giving to the poor labour and its reward, 
than there is in supporting them in idleness. Some 
benevolent and rich lady may gather a hundred or- 
phan or indigent children into a charity school ; it is 
noble, and the God of the poor will bless her for it 
forever. 

Subscription-lists may tell of thousands of pounds 
raised to feed the needy in times of scarcity of bread, 
and of commercial distress ; and every town and vil- 
lage may have its charitable institution, in some 
instances patronised by the aristocracy ; but what 
does all this avail so long as five times the amount 
thus given to the poor is again wrung from them by 
a cruel bread-tax, which takes food from their 
mouths to swell the incomes of the land-owners ; or 
by church-rates and tithes, to support a worldly and 
N2 



150 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

oppressive religious establishment ; or by poor-rates, 
to feed the millions who have been made paupers by 
this very taxation system ? 

Show me a man who, in the decline of life, falls 
upon his parish for support in the workhouse, and I 
will show you a man who has been compelled to 
labour half his days to sustain the government 
which has made him a pauper at last — a man who, 
with the same labour and economy, would have ac- 
cumulated in America an independent estate, and 
reared up a beautiful and well-educated family to 
smooth the down-hill steeps of age, comfort him in 
sickness, and close his eyes in death's peaceful sleep. 
There can be no doubt that it costs the poor man five 
times as much to be a subject of Great Britain, if he 
lives on this island, as it would if he were a citizen 
of the United States. 

Is there any benevolence in giving shelter to the 
broken-down operative to come and die in, when his 
overstrained muscles at length give way ? or in an- 
swering his cry for bread by telling him to emi- 
grate to America ? Is there even justice in it ? 

Says Carlyle, that acute observer ; that lover of 
the right and the true; that hater of shams and 
wrong; that strange being, " who dares do all that 
may become a man" — in his Chartism : "The master 
of horses, when the summer labour is done, has to 
feed his horses through the winter. If he said to his 
horses, ' Quadrupeds, I have no longer work for you, 
but work exists abundantly over the world ; are you 



CARLYLE 3 " LAISSEZ-FAIRE." 151 

ignorant (or must I read you political economy lec- 
tures) that the steam-engine always, in the long run, 
creates additional work 7 Railways are forming in 
one quarter of the earth, canals in another ; much 
cartage is wanted somewhere in Europe, Asia, Afri- 
ca, or America ; doubt it not, ye will find cartage ; 
go and seek cartage, and good go with you.' They, 
with protrusive upper lip, snort dubious, signifying 
that Europe, Asia, Africa, and America lie somewhat 
out of their beat; that what cartage may be wanted 
there, is not too well known to them. They can find 
no cartage. They gallop distracted along highways, 
all fenced in to the right and to the left ; finally, un- 
der pains of hunger, they take to leaping fences; 
eating foreign property, and — we know the rest. — 
Ah ! it is not a joyful mirth ; it is sadder than tears, 
the laugh humanity is forced to at Laissez-faire, ap- 
plied to poor peasants in a world like our Europe of 
the year 1839." 

No ; .1 am quite disposed to think, that the horse 
which has worked through his working life, is justly 
entitled to something to eat when he can work no 
more. So thinks the slaveholder, who supports his 
worn-out servants. One would laugh him in the face 
to hear him talk of the charity of the act. Indeed, 
in six Southern states I have never heard a word 
about the charity of it. I have heard some zealous 
advocate of slavery at the North say something 
about it, but never without raising a laugh at the 
misnomer. 



152 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

The English workhouses are reckoned among the 
" Charities." Perhaps it would be well to find for 
them some other name. Some of these workhouses 
do, indeed, afford comfortable homes for the poor 
(as the word comfort is defined in the vocabulary of 
men who have learned to dispense with a greater 
part of what other men call the_^necessaries of life). 
But there is nothing so painful, I find, to a man of 
spirit and sensibility, as the thought of being one 
day compelled to enter a workhouse. It is a dark 
cloud, that hangs on the vision of every poor man in 
England when he looks into the future. 

These workhouses are often the scenes of great 
cruelty, privation, and suffering. The description 
which that master painter of human wo, Charles 
Dickens, has given of the workhouse, will not do, 
we all know, for the majority of them; but it will 
do for many. You have read Parliamentary re- 
ports, books, pamphlets, etc., on this subject; con- 
versed with those who are familiar with it ; perhaps 
■witnessed the workhouse system in England with 
your own eyes. You are aware that in many in- 
stances the keepers speculate on the stomachs of 
parish paupers; keeping them upon short or dam- 
aged food ; denying them many of the most com- 
mon necessaries of life, and all its comforts. 

Instances are not a few in which the inmates of 
these houses die in lonely, filthy chambers by night, 
without medical aid ; without an attendant ; with- 
out even a rush-light to flicker over their pillows 



THE DYING PAUPER. 153 

while they are passing through death's struggles. 
The selfish avarice of the keeper combines with the 
interest of the parish to shorten the pauper's days, 
and rid themselves of the thankless burden as quick- 
ly as possible. To accomplish this, the cords of life 
are cut asunder by cold neglect and barbarous treat- 
ment. 

All that is known about such cases is, that the 
prayer of the dying pauper is often denied, when he 
asks that the physician come may to him, or some 
one watch by his bed ; or the minister of religion be 
called to breathe out a prayer for his soul ; or, if he 
is to be left entirely alone while the soul is breaking 
away from its shattered house, that they will have 
mercy and bring a light, that the darkness of night 
may not mingle with the death shades of the grave 
as they settle over his bed of rags. 

In the morning they go to his chamber, and find 
that he is dead. It causes no grief; no friend was 
with him when he died — but God. A rough coffin 
is ordered — price 7^. Qd. — the body is taken away, 
and that is the end of the pauper ; his dying groan 
heard only by the ear of a merciful God ; over his 
grave no tear of affection is shed ; no monument 
ever rises; and in a little while no one but He 
whose all-seeing eye notices the falling sparrow, 
can tell whose grave it is where the pauper sleeps. 

The workhouse is a gloomy place for the poor to 
go to ; it is one of the most dismal places I ever en- 
tered. In the best of them England does not pay 



154 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

back to the pauper half the law has taken from his 
former earnings. It would be a difficult matter, I 
apprehend, to find many persons in the parish work- 
house who have not paid far more to support the 
government which has impoverished them, than the 
parish pays for their support when they can work no 
longer. 

For any who may think I exaggerate the mis- 
eries of these places, I will quote a short descrip- 
tion from the writings of Dr. Southey : " When the 
poor are incapable of contributing any longer to 
their own support, they are removed to what is call- 
ed the workhouse. I cannot express to you the 
feeling of hopelessness and dread with which all the 
decent poor look on to this wretched termination of 
a life of labour. To this place all vagrants are sent 
for punishment; unmarried women with child go 
here to be delivered ; and poor orphans and base- 
born children are brought up here till they are of 
age to be apprenticed off: the other inmates are 
those unhappy people who are utterly helpless — par- 
ish idiots and madmen, the blind and the palsied, 
and the old who are fairly worn out. 

" It is not in the nature of things that the super- 
intendents of such institutions as these should be 
gentle-hearted, when the superintendence is underta- 
ken merely for the salary. There are always enough 
competitors for the management among those peo- 
ple who can get no better situation ; but, whatever 
kindness of disposition they may bring with them to 



THE PARISH WORKHOUSE. 155 

the task, it is soon perverted by the perpetual sight 
of depravity and of suffering. The management of 
children who grow up without one natural aifection, 
where there is none to love them, and, consequently, 
none whom they can love, would alone be sufficient 
to sour a happier disposition than is usually brought 
to the government of a workhouse. 

"To this society of wretchedness the labouring 
poor of England look as their last resting-place on 
this side the grave ; and, rather than enter abodes 
so miserable, they endure the severest privations as 
long as it is possible to exist. A feeling of honest 
pride makes them shrink from a place where guilt 
and poverty are confounded : and it is heart-break- 
ing for those who have reared a family of their own, 
to be subjected in their old age to the harsh and un- 
feeling authority of persons younger than themselves, 
neither better born nor better bred. They dread, 
also, the disrespectful and careless funeral, which 
public charity, or, rather, law bestows ; and many a 
wretch denies himself the few sordid comforts within 
his reach, in order that he may hoard up enough to 
purchase a more decent burial, a better shroud, or a 
firmer coffin than the parish will afford." 

No ! let things be called by their right names ; 
this is not charity. I love the generous spirit which 
prompts private individuals to do all they can to re- 
lieve the suffering and enlighten the ignorance of 
the lower classes ; but the vast sum raised by private 
munificence is not worthy to be compared with the 



156 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND 

enormous amount which the law wrings from these 
same classes. 

It will be said that such persons should bear their 
share of burdens imposed by the state, for the pro- 
tection of its citizens and the administration of its 
affairs. True : but I claim they bear vastly more 
than their share ; and the sums which they pay to 
the government above what the government can 
justly draw from them, would in the aggregate make 
a fund more than sufficient for the comfortable sup- 
port of all the paupers in England : a fund which 
would furnish them the comforts as well as neces- 
saries of life; would educate their children, and el- 
evate the whole labouring class. 

After all that is said, then, about the humane pro- 
vision for the parish poor, they are great sufferers. 
All the charity they receive from private beneficence 
or the parish is no recompense for the injustice they 
endure, although great credit should, I admit, be 
awarded to their private benefactors. 

I suppose there is no land where so much money 
is raised by voluntary contribution for humane ob- 
jects; neither is there a land where the government 
imposes such heavy burdens upon its subjects. 

But I alluded to her system of domestic industry. 
1 have visited some of the principal manufacturing 
towns in the kingdom ; and by spending two weeks 
in Manchester and its immediate neighbourhood, I 
have had an opportunity of somewhat carefully ex- 
amining the Factory System, and the condition of the 
operatives. 



MANCHESTER. 157 

I need not speak of the excellence of the ma- 
chinery or of the work: it is well known that the 
English manufacturers have reduced almost every 
department of mechanism to what seems to be abso- 
lute perfection. But one cares little for the beauty 
of machinery or its creations when he sees the hu- 
man frame in ruins. It cannot be forgotten, that as 
manufactures have gone up, the operatives have 
gone down. 

This general principle may be applied to the 
whole system of British manufactures ; and it is a 
truth no candid man, who has investigated the sub- 
ject, will question, that while the work is made per- 
fect, THE WORKMAN IS DESTROYED. 

But to be more particular. Manchester is the lar- 
gest manufacturing town in Great Britain ; and in 
size and population the second city in the kingdom , 
having nearly the same number of inhabitants as 
New-York. " Imagine this multitude crowded to- 
gether in narrow streets, the houses all built of 
brick and blackened with smoke ; frequent buildings 
among them as large as convents, without their anti- 
quity, without their beauty, without their holiness ; 
where you hear from within, as you pass along, the 
everlasting din of machinery ; and where, when the 
bell rings, it is to call wretches to their work instead 
of their prayers : imagine this, and you have the 
materials for a picture of Manchester." 

I went through several of the largest mills, and 
some of the smaller ones. In every instance the pro- 

VoL, L— 



158 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

prietors and overlookers who led me round wished 
me to look through their eyes. But having a good 
pair of my own to which I was more accustomed, 
I chose to use them. In many of t^ mills there 
were certain large rooms crowded v i operatives 
(I was told), which, for reasons best i aown to the 
proprietors, I was not permitted to iter. I can 
easily imagine that a person may gc .. rough many 
an English factory without seeing mucli of the evil 
of the system. An intelligent gentler n, who is fa- 
miliar with it in all its parts, accompanied me, and 
pointed out many things which I should not other- 
wise have observed, and which I shall not soon for- 
get ; for I saw much that spoke of sorrow, igno- 
rance, and gloom. 

A certain writer says there is a plant in the East 
i idies, called Veloutier by the French, which exales 
an odour very agreeable at a distance, but which 
becomes less so as it is approached, until its smell is 
insupportably loathsome. Alcetas himself could not 
have imagined an emblem more appropriate to the 
manufacturing system of Great Britain. As we 
contemplate it from our side of the Atlantic, it seems 
to be the glory of England, ministering not only to 
our own luxury, as well as to the wealth of the pro- 
prietors, but to the comfort of vast multitudes who 
are by it furnished with labour and the reward 
which industry brings. But the deep poverty and 
the tears of the operatives we know nothing of. 

Not a day in the year passes that the sails of 



NUMBER OF CHILDREN IN FACTORIES. 159 

commerce are not unfurled to bear the manufactured 
goods of England to foreign countries. Of^this 
England boasts. And well she might, if those 
astonishing •■•"'sations of human skill were not the 
price of bloo^ ,- The Lancashire manufacturers told 
us, with an r.ir of exultation worthy of a better 
cause, " The is no idleness among us here ; you 
see the disciji-L le, the machinery, the division of la- 
bour ; we ari; proud of our skill and industry ; we 
clothe the v;;(Tld;''" and they might have added, 
" strip and starve our labourers to do it." 

But nothing has given me so much pain as to see 
the utter ruin this system entails upon children. 
The introduction of labour-saving machinery crea- 
ted a great demand for the labour of children. They 
can now accomplish as much for their masters in one 
day by machinery, as strong men could formerly in 
many; and they work for a few cents a day, and 
board themselves. I have seen one estimate from 
high authority, stating that the number of children 
of both sexes under the age of 18, engaged in the 
cotton, wool, silk, and flax manufactures of England 
alone, is over two hundred thousand ; and the whole 
number of persons employed in the different branch- 
es of these four manufactures in Great Britain, is 
estimated at two millions. But Mr. Baines computes 
the number of persons directly employed in the 
manufacture of cotton alone, with those immediate- 
ly dependant upon them for subsistence, at one and a 
half million. It should be remembered that this es- 



160 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

timate embraces only the operatives in four branches 
of t\\^ great manufacturing system. 

The number of persons engaged in the British 
coal-trade is said to be over 140,000 ; one third of 
whom spend their days under ground, working in 
the mines. They are a stunted and deformed race 
of men. Being obliged, in doing their work, to keep 
themselves in a cramped and unnatural position so 
much of the time, they become crooked, and even 
in their common gait walk as though they were 
crushed down with heavy burdens. 

Accidents in coal-mines frequently occur, arising 
principally from explosions of inflammable gas. The 
Committee of the House of Commons appointed to 
examine into the condition of the colliers, reported 
they had ascertained that 2070 lives had been lost in 
twenty-five years by these explosions. In no instance 
had a person in the mines survived the accident to 
tell how it arose. Mr. Buddie, of Wallsend, an ex- 
tremely well-informed coal engineer, says that " the 
number of persons employed under ground on the 
Tyne are, men, 4937 ; boys, 3554." 

There are over 400 furnaces in Great Britain, era- 
ploying directly in the production of iron 75,000 
persons, and the business provides subsistence for a 
million. The aggregate amount of iron produced in 
the year 1839 was 800,000 tons. In the preparation 
of salt, alum, and other minerals, vast numbers of 
persons are engaged. The whole number employed 
in the production of all sorts of iron, hardware, and 



WRETCHEDNESS OF THE OPERATIVES 161 

cutlery articles, is estimated at 350,000. In the 
manufacture of jewelry, earthen and glass ware, 
paper, woollen stuffs, distilled and fermented liquors, 
&c., &c., the numbers employed are very great. 

There is not a branch of this immense system of 
manufacture, in which there is not a painful sacrifice 
of health and life. The ignorance, vice, disease, de- 
formity, and wretchedness of the English operatives, 
as a body, almost exceed belief. The philanthro- 
pists of England should relax nothing in their exer- 
tions for the emancipation of the millions still held 
in bondage in their foreign possessions; but I am 
persuaded the physical miseries of the English oper- 
atives are greater by far than the West India slaves 
suffered before their emancipation. 

The hundreds of thousands of a tender age em- 
ployed in all these various branches of manufac- 
ture, are in all cases the children of the poor : many 
of them the children of paupers, apprenticed to the 
proprietors of factories by the parish authorities ; for 
when the father goes to the workhouse, he has no 
longer any voice in the management of his children. 
They are separated at the will of the parish. It is 
said that this class, which is very numerous, fare 
harder than any other, which can readily be be- 
lieved. 

They are, to all intents and purposes, as abso- 
lutely under the control of their masters as though 
they were slaves. There is hardly an instance in 
which the law ever interferes for their protection, let 
02 



162 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the abuse be what it may. They are too ignorant 
to understand their rights, and too weak to assert 
them ; they are trained up to one single branch of 
labour, and forever disquahfied for everything else ; 
they are neither instructed in science, religion, nor 
the common business and economy of life. Dr 
Southey relates the following conversation with the 
proprietor of a mill in Manchester : 

" ' We are well off for hands in Manchester,' said 
Mr. ; ' manufactures are favourable to popu- 
lation ; the poor are not afraid of having a family 
here ; the parishes, therefore, have always plenty to 
apprentice, and we take them as fast as they can 
supply us. In new manufacturing towns they find it 
difficult to get a supply. Their only method is to 
send people round the country to get children from 
their parents. Women usually undertake this busi- 
ness; they promise the parents to provide for the 
children ; one party is glad to be eased of a burden, 
and it answers well to the other to find the young 
ones in food, lodging, and clothes, and receive their 
wages.' ' But if these children should be ill used V 
said I. ' Sir,' he replied, ' it can never be the in- 
terest of the women to use them ill, nor of the man- 
ufacturer to permit it.' " 

And so it could be said, that it is never for the 
interest of men to do wrong, and oppress their fel- 
low-men. It is not for the interest of the English 
government, if they understood their true policy, to 
endanger the stability of the throne or the safety of 



CRUELTIES INFLICTED ON CHILDREN. 163 

the people ; to enrage the lower classes by unjust 
legislation. It was not for the interest of Charles I. 
to urge the nation into a revolution, as his own head- 
less trunk testified while it lay upon the scaffold by 
the upper window of Whitehall Palace. If there be 
a class of persons obtained for selfish purposes, and 
reduced to the condition of mere instruments in the 
hands of their masters, it is the English apprentices. 

Some years ago the cruelties inflicted upon factory 
children aroused the indignation of several distin- 
guished individuals, who brought the matter before 
Parliament J and the Reports of the Investigating 
Committees, as well as facts brought out by others 
interested in the matter, convincingly show that the 
most shocking inhumanities are practised upon these 
poor children. 

I will extract a few paragraphs from one of these 
Reports. 

Evidence of Eliza Marshall. — ^'* Eliza Marshall 
lives at Leeds ; worked at MarsI all's factory. Am 
seventeen years old. Father dead. Sister and self 
did what we could to support mother. Have cried 
many an hour in the factory. Could scarcely get 
home J sometimes had to be 'trailed home. I have 
an iron on my right leg, and my knee is contracted. 
Worked in great pain and misery. I was straight 
before. Sister carried me up to bed many a time. 
The surgeon says it is with long standing at the mill, 
and that the marrow is quite dried up, and will never 
be formed again." 



164 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Evidence of Stephen Binns. — " Stephen Binns 
stated, I have worked in Mr. Marshall's factory. 
The work produces deformity. It lames the chil- 
dren. The work exacted from the children is all 
that can possibly be done. It cannot be done with- 
out resorting to flogging. It is an offence for any 
one to speak to another. The water used for hot 
spinning is heated to 110 or 120 degrees. The 
children have almost continually to plunge their 
hands and arms in that water. The heat of the 
rooms and the steam almost macerate their bodies, 
and their clothes are steamed and wet. If they fall 
sick, they are turned adrift directly, without wages, 
without provision. If a girl complain of ill-usage, 
she is discharged immediately, without any r-edress. 
The present system is ruining the rising generation. 
It is sacrificing the children for a paltry considera- 
tion !" 

Evidence of Samuel Dovme. — " Samuel Downe. 
I was ten years oM when I began to work at Mr. 
Marshall's mill at Shrewsbury. We began at five 
in the morning, and worked till eight at night. The 
engine never stopped, except forty minutes at din- 
ner-time. The children were kept awake by a 
blow or a box. Very considerable severity was 
used in that mill. I was strapped most severely 
till I could not bear lo sit upon a chair without 
having pillows; and I was forced to he upon my 
face in bed at one time, and through that I left. I 
was strapped on my legs, and then I was put upon 



EVIDENCE FROM PARLIAMENTARY REPORTS. 165 

a man's back and strapped, and then I was strapped 
and buckled with two straps to an iron pillar and 
flogged. After that the overlooker took a piece of 
tow, twisted it in the shape of a cord, and put in my 
mouth, and tied it behind my head ; he thus gagged 
me. We were thus beaten. We were never al- 
lowed to sit down. Young women were beaten as 
well as young men." 

Evidence of an Overlooker. — " The overlooker ex- 
amined says: he walks around the room with a stick 
in his hand, and if a child falls drowsy over his work, 
he touches that child on the shoulder, and conducts 
it to an iron cistern which is filled with water. He 
then takes the child (heedless of sex) by the legs, 
and dips it overhead in the cistern, and sends it to 
its work. In that condition the child labours for the 
remainder of the day. That is the punishment for 
drowsiness! * * * * We have a vast number 
of cripples. Some are cripples from losing their 
limbs, many from standing too long. It first begins 
with a pain in the ankle ; after that they will ask 
the overlooker to let them sit down : but they must 
not. Then they begin to be weak in the knee, then 
knock-kneed ; after that their feet turn out, they be- 
come splay-footed, and their ankles swell as big as 
my fists. I know many deformed in the manner de- 
scribed." 

Evidence of David Bywater. — " Were you after- 
ward taken to the steaming department ?" " Yes.'* 
" At what age ?' " I believe I was turned thirteen 



166 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

then." " Is that a laborious department ?" " Yes." 
" At what age were you when you entered upon the 
night- work V " I was nearly fourteen." 

" Will you state to the committee the labour which 
you endured when you were put upon long hours, 
and the night-work was added V 

"I started at one o'clock on Monday morning, 
and went on till twelve o'clock on Tuesday night." 

" You say you were taken to be a steamer ; are 
not very stout, healthy youth usually selected for 
that purpose V 

" Yes ; the overlooker said he thought I should be 
the strongest." * * * "Were you perfect in 
your limbs when you undertook that long and ex- 
cessive labour ?" " Yes, I was." " What effect did 
it produce upon you ?" " It brought a weakness on 
me : I felt my knees quite ache." " Had you pain 
in your limbs and all over your body V " Yes." 
" Show what effect it had upon your limbs." " It 
made me very crooked" (here the witness showed 
his knees and legs). "Are your thighs also bent?" 
" Yes, the bone is quite bent." 

" How long was it after you had to endure this 
long labour before your limbs felt in that way?" 
" I was very soon told of it before I found it out my- 
self." 

"What did they tell you?" "They told me I 
was getting very crooked in my knees j my mother 
found it out first." 

" What did she say about it ?" " She said I should 
kill myself with working this long time." 



MRS. TROLLOPE's ACCOUNT. 167 

"If you had refused to work those long hours, and 
wished to have worked a moderate length of time 
only, should you have been retained in your situa- 
tion ?" 

" I should have had to go home ; I should have 
been turned off directly." 

These miserable young slaves have no power of 
choice ; for if they, or their parents for them, refuse^ 
they are instantly turned off to literal starvation; no 
parish assistance being allowed to those who resist 
the regulations of the manufacturers. 

Says Mrs. Trollope, in the beautiful story of Mi- 
chael Armstrong, " Whenever our boasted trade 
flows briskly, they are compelled to stand to their 
work for just as many hours as the application of the 
overlooker's strap or billy-roller can keep them on 
their legs. Innumerable instances are on record of 
children falling from excess of weariness on the ma- 
chinery, and being called to life by its lacerating their 
flesh. It continually happens that young creatures 
under fifteen years of age are kept from their beds 
all night. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen hours of la- 
bour out of the twenty-four, are cases which recur 
continually, and I need not say with what effect 
upon these victims of ferocious avarice. * * * * 
" Two hundred thousand little creatures, created 
by the abounding mercy of God with faculties for 
enjoyment so perfect that no poverty short of actual 
starvation can check their joy, so long as innocence 
and Hberty be left them ! Two hundred thousand 



168 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

little creatures, for whose freedom from toil during 
their tender years the awful voice of nature has 
gone forth, to be snatched away, living and feeling, 
from the pure air of heaven, while the beautiful pro- 
cess is going on by which their delicate fabric grad- 
ually strengthens into maturity ; taken forever from 
all with vi^hich their Maker has surrounded them, for 
the purpose of completing his own noblest work; 
taken and lodged amid stench, and stunning, terri- 
fying tumult ; driven to and fro till their little limbs 
bend under them, hour after hour and day after day; 
the repose of a moment to be purchased only by 
yielding their tender bodies to the fist, the heel, or 
the strap of the overlooker !" 

This is almost as shocking as anything Mrs. Trol- 
lope found in the " Domestic Manners of the Ameri- 
cans." 

Let me ask your attention, dear sir, for a moment 
longer, to this terrible history of early suffering, de- 
veloped in the evidence on the Factory Bill. 

Evidence of Elden Hargrave. — "In attending to 
this machine, are you not always upon the stretch 
and upon the move V " Yes, always." 

" Do you not use your hand a good deal in stretch- 
ing it out?" "Yes." 

"What effect had this long labour upon you?" 
"I had a pain across my knees, and I got crooked." 

" Was it in the back of your knees or the side of 
your knees ?" " All round." 

" Will you show your limbs ?" (Here the witness 
exposed her legs and knees.) 



WORK OF SCAVENGERS. 169 

" Were your knees ever straight at any time ?" 
" They were straight before I went to Mr. Brown's 
mill." ******* 

" You say you worked for seventeen hours a day 
all the year round ; did you do that without inter- 
ruption 1" « Yes." 

" Could you attend any day or night school V 
« No." 

« Can you write ?" « No." 

" Can you read ?" " I can read a little in a spell- 
ing-book." 

" Where did you learn that ? did you go to a Sun- 
day-school ?" "No ; I had no clothes to go in." 

Evidence of Mr. Thomas Daniel relative to the 
hoys called Scavengers. — " You have stated that there 
is considerable difference in the ages of the children 
employed ; are the younger or the older of the chil- 
dren employed those that have to undergo the great- 
est degree of labour and exertion V " The younger." 

" Those you call scavengers ?" " Yes, scaven- 
gers and middle-piecers." 

" Will you state their average age 7" " The aver- 
age age of scavengers will not be more than ten 
years." 

" Describe to the committee the employment of 
those scavengers." " Their work is to keep the 
machines, while they are going, clean from all kinds 
of dust and dirt that may be flying about, and they 
are in all sorts of positions to come at them ; I think 
that their bodily exertion is more than they are able 

Vor,. I.— P 



170 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

to bear, for they are constantly kept in a state of ai 
tivity." 

" Have they not to clean the machines, and tc 
creep under, and run round them, and to change 
and accommodate their position in every -possible 
manner, in order to keep those machines in proper 
order V " They are in all sorts of po; .lures that 
the human body is capable of being put uAo, to come 
at the machines." 

" Are they not peculiarly liable t» accidents, 
then ?" '• In many instances they aro ; but not so 
much now as they formerly were; spinners take 
more care and more notice of the children than they 
formerly did." 

" Do you think that they are capable of perform- 
ing that work for the length of time that you have 
described ?" " Not without doing them a serious 
injury with respect to their health and their bodily 
strength." 

" State the effect that it ha.'> upon them, according 
to your own observation and trperience." " Those 
children, every morrjbent they have to spare, will he 
stretched at their length upon the floor in a state of 
perspiration, and we are ohliged to keep them up to the 
work hy using either a strap or some harsh language, 
and they are kept continually in a state of agitation ; 
I consider them to he constantly in a state of grief, 
though some of them cannot shed tears j their con- 
dition greatly depresses their spirits." 

" They live in a state of constant apprehension, 



EXCESSIVE LABOUR IMPOSED ON CHILDREN. 171 

and often in one of terror ?" " They are always in 
terror ; and I consider that that does them as much 
injury as their labour, their minds being in a con- 
Btant state of agitation and fear." 

" You consider, then, upon the whole, their state 
as one of extreme hardship and misery V " So 
much so that I have made up my mind that my chil- 
dren shall never go into a factory, more especially 
as scavengers and piecers." 

" What do you mean by saying that those chil- 
dren are always in a state of terror and fear ?" " The 
reason of their being in a state of terror and fear is, 
that we are obliged to have our work done, and we 
are compelled, therefore, to use the strap, or some 
harsh language, which it hurts my feelings often to 
do, for I think it is heart-breaking to the poor child." 

"Do not you think that their labour is more ag- 
gravating to them at the end of the day ?" " I do ; 
for we have to be more harsh with them at the lat- 
ter part of the day than in the middle part of it. The 
greatest difficulty that we have to contend with, in 
point of making them do their labour, is in the morn- 
ing and after four o'clock in the afternoon. The 
long hours that they have laboured the day before, 
in my opinion, sause them to be very sleepy in the 
morning." 

"Have you observed them to be drowsy in the 
after part of the day ?" " Very much so." * * * 

You cannot have failed, dear sir, to have examin- 
ed most thoroughly a question of such deep interest 



172 GLORY AND SHAMK OF ENGLAND. 

as this. You are also aware that I could multiply 
extracts like these from every page of what Bulwer 
calls " this huge calendar of childish suffering." 
" Thus prepared and seasoned for the miseries of 
life," says the humane author alluded to, " the boy 
enters upon manhood — aged while yet youthful — and 
compelled by premature exhaustion to the dread re- 
lief of artificial stimulus. Gin, not even the" pure 
spirit, but its dire adulteration — opium — narcotic 
drugs ; these are the horrible cements with which he 
repairs the rents and chasms of a shattered, macer- 
ated frame. He marries ; and becomes in his turn 
the reproducer of new sufferers. — A government 
should represent a parent ; with us it only represents 
a dun vnth a bailiff at his heels .'" 

These fearful pictures remind one of the outrageous 
tortures of the Inquisition. And yet these terrible 
results come legitimately from the oppressive policy 
of the English government. A vast amount of the 
sufferings and ignorance of the working classes are 
to be directly attributed to the tyrannical corn- 
laws; laws made to enrich the landholders at the 
expense of the poor. For it is impossible for the 
poor man in England to pay from his small income 
the enormous bread-tax, and have enough left to 
clothe his family and provide them other necessaries 
of life. 

Countries which would gladly exchange their ag- 
ricultural productions for the manufactures of Eng- 
land, being denied a market in that kingdom for 



LORD MORPETH. 173 

them, are tempted to retaliate by prohibiting the en- 
try of her cottons ; they devote their energies to the 
establishment of manufactures, first to supply them- 
selves, but ultimately for export. England must un- 
dersell them in foreign markets or lose the trade ; 
and, consequently, cheapness of production must be 
attained, though children become cripples, and their 
little frames wasted by uninterrupted labour from 
five in the morning until eight at night. Thus the 
landed interest of England is protected (or supposed 
to be protected ; for it can be shown that the land- 
owners would not suffer by a free trade in corn) at 
.the expense of misery through life, and a premature 
death, to thousands upon thousands. 

Yet so mighty is the power of the English aris- 
tocracy, that it seems impossible to repeal this re- 
strictive policy. It is understood that the present 
ministry will bring in a bill to regulate the introduc- 
tion of foreign corn, so that the scale of duties shall 
no longer fluctuate as at present, and other nations 
be able, at a moderate duty, to import their surplus 
grain into England. 

In a conversation a few days ago with one of the 
cabinet (Lord Morpeth, Secretary for Ireland*), he 

* 1 have seen it stated that Lord Morpeth, late Secretary for Ire- 
land, intends soon to make the tour of the United States. He is one 
of those men who have won the admiration of all true friends of 
liberty in England, by his bold and faithful defence of the rights of 
his oppressed countrymen. Let him be honoured by Americans if 
he comes among us ; not because he is a nobleman, for I would have 
no man honoured for being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, 
but because he is a friend of liberty. 

P 2 



174 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

expressed the opinion that the bill would be defeat- 
ed by the Conservatives in both Houses; but the 
ministry were determined to introduce it; and if the" 
people of Great Britain would not sustain them in 
so humane a measure, they could resign their places, 
with the consciousness of having done all in their 
power to relieve the poor from so oppressive an act. 
[This bill has been introduced and defeated. Par- 
liament has been dissolved ; an appeal made, not to 
the English people, for they have nothing to do 
with the laws, as Burke said, but to obey them ; but 
to the electors, who are a small minority of the peo- 
ple ; and through the basest bribery and the most 
corrupt management, a Tory majority has been re- 
turned to the House of Commons. 

For a time Liberty seems to have left England ; 
but in the end freedom will lose nothing. The in- 
dignation of the people will be more deeply infla- 
med than ever. The time has gone by when a Tory 
ministry can long administer the government of 
England. While they are in the transient enjoy- 
ment of their hard-earned, basely-gotten power, the 
great Liberal party will all rally round one common 
banner, on which shall be inscribed " The Great 
Reform Bill ;" and gather strength from union, to 
plant that banner firmly and triumphantly upon the 
corner-stone of the British Constitution. The people 
of England were never more ripe for a revolution; 
and if it must come, the great majority of them are 
prepared to meet it.] 



AGRICULTURIST AND MANUFACTURER. 175 

Heaven forbid that America should ever be cursed 
with such a manufacturing system as that which is 
now the curse of England. May the day never come, 
when any great proportion of the labouring classes 
of America shall be taken from her broad fields and 
rich soil, where the muscles grow strong and the 
frame sturdy by honest labour in the open air ; 
where the wages of a few months will purchase the 
fee-simple forever of enough of the earth's surface 
to be dignified by the name of home, and which 
will produce the grand necessaries of life for the 
working man's family. 

Who that has ever known the luxury not only of 
breathing the free air of a republic, but a luxury 
greater still, of seeing millions of strong freemen 
around him, cutting down their own tall forests, and 
casting the precious seed into their own soil, and 
reaping their own harvests, ever would see the day 
come, when, in his own land, the masses of honest 
labourers shall know what it is to bow down under 
the dictation of idle masters to the wasting toil of 
the factory, or even the labour of the field ? It is 
not because I would see my countrymen exempt 
from labour ; it is not because I would wish to see 
the poor of England loitering idly around the streets 
and fields : I would have labour a blessing, as God 
designed it should be ; and not have it made a curse 
by oppression. 

I always admired those noble sentiments of your 
own, " I have faith in labour, and I see the goodness 
of God in placing us in a world where labour alone 



176 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

can keep us alive. * * * Manual labour is a school 
in which raen are placed to get energy of purpose 
and character ; a vastly more important endowment 
than all the learning of all other schools. They are 
placed, indeed, under hard masters, physical suffer- 
ings and wants, the power of fearful elements, and 
the vicissitudes of all human things ; but these stern 
teachers do a work which no compassionate, indul- 
gent friend could do for us; and true wisdom will 
bless Providence for their sharp ministry. I have 
great faith in hard work. * * * I believe that diffi- 
culties are more important to the human mind, than 
what we call assistances. Work we all must, if we 
mean to bring out and perfect our nature. * * No 
business or study which does not present obstacles, 
tasking to the full the intellect and the will, is wor- 
thy of a man. * * The uses of toil reach beyond 
the present world. The capacity of steady, earnest 
labour is, I apprehend, one of our great preparatives 
for another state of being. When I see the vast 
amount of toil required of men, I feel that it must 
have important connexions with their future exist- 
ence ; and that he who has met this discipline man- 
fully, has laid one essential foundation of improve- 
ment, exertion, and happiness in the world to come. 
You here see that to me labour has great dignity. * * 
" I do not, then, desire to release the labourer from 
toil. This is not the elevation to be sought for him. 
Manual labour is a great good ; but, in so saying, 1 
miLst he understood to speak oj" labour in its just pro- 



DEGRADATION OF EXCESSIVE LABOUR. 177 

portion. It is not good when made the sole work 
of life. In excess, it does great harm. It must be 
joined with higher means of improvement, or it de- 
grades instead of exalting. Man has a various na- 
ture, which requires a variety of occupation and dis- 
cipline for its growth. Study, meditation, society, 
and relaxation should be mixed up with his physical 
toils. He has intellect, heart, imagination, taste, as 
well as bones and muscles; and he is grievously 
wronged when compelled to exclusive drudgery for 
bodily subsistence. Life should be an alternation 
of employments, so diversified as to call the whole 
man into action. 

"In proportion as Christianity shall spread the 
spirit of brotherhood, there will and must be a more 
equal distribution of toils and means of improvement. 
That system of labour which saps the health, and 
shortens life, and famishes intellect, needs and must 
receive great modification." 

In England it is lamentably true, " that the la- 
bourer can gain subsistence for himself and his family 
only by a degree of labour which forbids the use of 
means of improvement. His necessary toil leaves 
no time or strength for thought. He can live but 
for one end, which is to keep himself alive. He can- 
not give time and strength to intellectual, social, and 
moral culture without starving his family." 

In illustration of these truths, suffer me, sir, to re- 
late a conversation I had with a railroad porter in 
Manchester. On my first visit to this town, I em- 



178 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ployed a porter to carry my carpet-bag to my lodg- 
ings, about two miles and a half. He was a tem- 
perate and sensible man. 

In passing through one of the principal streets, we 
met a noisy procession of perhaps 20,000 persons 
that had collected to receive two celebrated Chartists 
just liberated from prison. We turned into a by- 
street to avoid the crowd, and walked on. 

" Have you a family, sir ?" I inquired. 

" Yes, sir ; I have a wife and nine children, and 
a pretty hard time we have too, we are so many ; 
and most of the children are so small, they can do 
little for the support of the family. I generally get 
from two shillings to a crown a day for carrying 
luggage ; and some of my children are in the mills ; 
and the rest are too young to work yet. My wife 
is never well, and it comes pretty hard on her to do 
the work of the whole family. We often talk these 
things over, and feel pretty sad. We live in a poor 
house ; we can't clothe our children comfortably ; 
not one of them ever went to school ; they could go 
to the Sunday-school, but we can't make them look 
decent enough to go to such a place. As for meat, 
we never taste it ; potatoes and coarse bread are our 
principal food. We can't save anything for a day of 
want ; almost everything we get for our work seems 
to go for taxes. We are taxed for something almost 
every week in the year. We have no time to our- 
selves when we are free from work. It seems that 
our life is all toil ; I sometimes almost give up. 



A POOR man's story. 179 

Life isn't worth much to a poor man in England ; 
and sometimes Mary and I, when we talk about it, 
pretty much conclude that we should all be better off 
if we were dead. I have gone home at night a 
great many times, and told my wife when she said 
supper was ready, that I had taken a bite at a 
chophouse on the way, and was not hungry — she 
and the children could eat my share. Yes, I have 
said this a great many times when I felt pretty hun- 
gry myself. I sometimes wonder that God suffers 
so many poor people to come into the world." 

" Don't you go to church on Sunday V 

" No, sir ; I am ashamed to say it, but I have 
been to no religious meeting for several years. I 
cannot get such clothes as would be decent without 
depriving my family of some of the necessaries of 
life ; and this I can't do." 

" You spoke about being better off if you were 
dead. Do you ever think much about the interests 
of your soul, and what it is to die ?" 

" Why, sir, / have not time to think much about 
those things ; ifs all I can do to get through this 
world, yyithout taking any trouble about another. If 
I had time to spare, I should like nothing better than 
to examine into religion, for I believe there is a good 
deal in it ; but I long ago made up my mind that I 
would do ray best in this world to make my family 
comfortable and happy, and when I came to die, 
make the best of that too." 

" Have you a Bible in your family, sir ?" 



180 GLORV AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" No, sir ; and if we had it would do us no good; 
for we can't any of us read it. And, besides, if I 
had a crown to spare for a Bible, I should rather get 
a leg of mutton with my money, and that would do 
some good to my family." 

When I was about to leave him 1 gave him the sum 
he was entitled to, and a few shillings for a Bible. 

" Yes, sir," he said, " I will spend it for a Bible, 
after what you have said ; and perhaps some day 
one of my children will be able to read it." 

As he turned to go, he said " I wish you would let 
me take your hand once.^' 

I gave it to him, and after holding it firmly in his 
strong grasp some time, he said, " If you will remember 
to pray for me once in a while, I shall be glad." A 
few large tears came down his face as he said " Good 
by, sir." I think I have met in your writings with 
the following sentiment : " That a state of society 
which leaves the mass of men to be crushed and 
famished in soul by excessive toils on matter, is at 
war with God's designs, and turns into means of 
bondage what was meant to free and expand the 
soul." 

One feels the force of this observation in Eng- 
land, as he never can in America. No, I never de- 
sire to see any country exempt from labour. But I 
would have the labourer related to his employer by 
other bonds than those of want and stern necessity ; 
for the moment you reduce a man to that condi- 
tion, you begin to degrade him. He cannot feel that 



liVJUSTICE HARD TO BEAR. 181 

heis sl man, if he knows he is entirely subjected to 
the will of another. If he has all his physical wants 
supplied, his misery may still be very great ; for man 
can in no way suffer so keenly as in thinking that he 
is wronged : / am treated with injustice ! That 
thought goes deeper into the soul than any other. 
It goes down and stirs the lowest stratum of man's 
nature, where God has laid broad and immovable 
the consciousness of his rights. That feeling, " lam 
wronged,^' was the secret of the French Revolution. 
It has here gone no farther than Chartism yet ; but 
it vyill go farther, unless the people can be made to 
feel they are treated with justice. 

England boasts of her manufactures; that she 
supplies the world with her wares ; undersells all 
nations in foreign markets ; can even pay a heavy 
duty for the admission of her fabrics, and still rival 
the manufacturers of every land, and amass princely 
fortunes by the commerce. Let us consider this 
boasted superiority. The operative must be kept 
miserably poor and oppressed, or such a state of 
things could not exist. To maintain the system, 
there must be laws (made by the master) to regulate 
the poor man's work; laws to prevent his removing 
from one place to another in the kingdom. 

In Espriella's Letters we find this statement : 
" We talk of the liberty of the English, and they 
talk of their own liberty ; but there is no liberty in 
England for the poor. They are no longer sold with 
the soil, it is true ; but they cannot quit the soil, if 

Vol. L— Q 



182 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

there be any probability or suspicion that age or in- 
firmity may disable them, If, in such a case, they 
endeavour to remove to some situation where they 
hope more easily to maintain themselves ; where 
work is more plentiful or provisions cheaper, the 
overseers (of the workhouse) are alarmed ; the in- 
truder is apprehended as if he were a criminal, and 
sent back to his own parish. Wherever a pauper 
dies, that parish must be at the cost of his funeral ; 
instances, therefore, have not been wanting of 
wretches in the last stage of disease having been 
hurried away in an open cart upon straw, and dying 
upon the road. Nay, even women in the very pains 
of labour have been driven out, and have perished 
by the wayside, because the birthplace of the child 
would be its parish." 

The suffering operatives of England would not be 
crowded together by hundreds into hot task-houses 
by day, and herded together in damp cellars by 
night ; they would not toil on in unwholesome em- 
ployments a whole lifetime ; they would not sweat 
night and day before furnaces which are never per- 
mitted to cool, and breathe in vapours which must 
inevitably produce disease and death — the poor 
would never submit to this unless they were in that 
state of abject poverty which precludes instruction, 
and hope for the future, and reduces them, like the 
beasts of the field, to seek nothing beyond the grati- 
fication of their present wants. They must bow to 
the dictation of cruel masters, and endure all the 



GIPSEY CHILDREN. 183 

miseries of which I have spoken, and numberless 
others unknown to all but themselves — or starve. 

Contrast these factory children, as they flock from 
the mills at evening to their gloomy homes, with the 
fresh, rosy-cheeked children of the middle classes ; 
contrast them even with the children of the wander- 
ing gipsies : the traveller sees these singular and 
picturesque "squatters" on heaths, in lawns, and 
wild glens, scattered all over England. You may 
have read that touching paragraph about them in 
Nicholas Nickleby ; for your love of the true and the 
beautiful must have led you to read that beautiful 
" history of the uprisings and downfallings of the 
Nickleby family." 

"Even the sunburnt faces of gipsy children, 
half naked though they be, suggest a drop of com- 
fort. It is a pleasant thing to see that the sun has 
been there ; to know that the air and light are on 
them every da^' ; to feel that they are children, and 
lead children's lives ; that if their pillows be damp, 
it is with the dews of heaven, and not with tears ; 
that the limbs of their girls are free, and that they 
are not crippled with distortions, imposing an unnat- 
ural and horrible penance upon their sex; that 
their lives are spent from day to day, at least among 
the waving trees, and not in the midst of dreadful 
engines, which make young children old before they 
know what childhood is, and give them the exhaus- 
tion and infirmity of age, without, like age, the priv 
ilege to die. God send that old nursery-tales were 



184 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND* 

true, and that the gipsies stole such children by the 
score." 

Who can tell, one thinks, as he looks on these 
little sufferers, in whose faces the deep lines of want 
and sorrow are drawn, like cruel gashes in some 
tender flower-stem, which would have been fresh 
and blooming ; who can tell how many minds have 
thus been crushed — minds which might have made 
their own age an era, and future times proud 
of their names, if they had not been sacrificed on 
the altar of Mammon 1 How many hearts there 
are among them whose cheerfulness has been blast- 
ed forever ; who, when told by the preacher that 
the kind Father of all made them to be happy, and 
watches over tliem in love, wonder how this can be 
true 1 

I happened to be wandering one evening through 
a dirty lane in the part of the town where the opera- 
tives are clustered. The factories were just opening 
their doors for weary thousands to go home ; and I 
met crowds of ragged, pale men, women, and chil- 
dren. There was an air of abjectness and exhaus- 
tion, of servile degradation and feebleness, about 
very many I saw; among whom were persons of all 
ages — from the old and haggard to children of ten- 
der years. I may have been deceived about the 
ages of some of the children, but there were multi- 
tudes of them who did not seem to me to be more 
than eight or ten years old. 

Lstood at the corner of a street, and looked at the 



THE TWO ORPHANS. 185 

crowds as they passed along. I observed a boy ap- 
parently about twelve or thirteen, holding up and 
dragging along a pale little girl considerably youn- 
ger than himself. " Come along now, Meggy ; can't 
you go for yourself a bit — I am about to give up, 
and I can't carry you again ?" 

I took the little creature's left hand, and the boy 
took the other, and we led her on to their home. 
The eyes of every one in the street were turned upon 
me, as though it were a strange thing to see a well- 
dressed person take a fainting child by the hand. 

" What is the matter, my boy, with your sister '?" 

" She's tired out, sir ; for she is not used to the 
mill-work yet, and it comes hard on her." 

" How long have you worked in the mills ?" 

" Five years." 

"Why don't your sister stay at home? She is 
too young yet to go to the mills." 

" Mother did keep her out as long as she could ; 
but after father died she was obliged to send Meg- 
gy to the mills too." 

" How many brothers and sisters have you ?" 

" There's six of us in all. George is apprenticed 
in Preston ; and Sarah, and Kate, and Billy work 
in Mr. 's mill." 

We turned a corner into a very narrow, filthy 
lane, and the boy, pointing the way down into the 
basement, said, " Here we live." The steps were 
steep and narrow, and I took , the little girl in my 
arms and carried her into the cellar. 
Q2 



186 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

The mother was lying upon a low bed of rags in 
one corner of the apartment. She rose up after one 
or two unsuccessful efforts, and sat on the side of 
the bed. The room was nearly dark; and what light 
there was came through the door we entered and 
fell upon her face. Her countenance looked sallow 
and consumptive ; her cheek was feverish, and her 
eyes were sunk deep in her head. Her forehead 
was large and handsome ; but there was an appear- 
ance of deep depression, and something like broken- 
heartedness in her looks. 

I apologized for intruding. " Oh, sir," she said, 
in a low and hollow voice, " God bless you, don't 
apologize for entering my cellar ; I am glad to see 
any one but my hungry children." Sobs shook her 
frame, and tears gushed from her eyes. 

" I hope you have come to me for good ; I am in 
great distress. No one has before entered the cel- 
lar to-day, except the officer, and he took my last 
shilling for taxes." 

" God bless you, woman," I exclaimed, " what 
can a tax-gatherer have to do in your house ? Come 
to rob a widowed mother and hungry orphans of their 
last shilling ! ! !" When I thought of Britain in this 
light, a shudder went through my frame as though I 
had been bitten by a serpent. 

" I wish I had a chair for you, sir," said the wid- 
ow ; " but there is a bench." 

The little girl climbed upon the bed and lay 
down, and the boy threw himself upon an old chest 



THE widow's home, 187 

at the head of the bed, and in a few minutes both 
of them were in a sound sleep. 

The widow rose up, and, supporting herself by 
the wall, went to the corner of the room and brought 
a tin cup of gruel (oatmeal and water) ; and seat- 
ing herself again on the bed, roused up her children 
to eat their simple meal. She had to shake them 
several times before they got up ; and then she fed 
them with an iron spoon, giving to each a spoonful 
at a time. 

When the gruel was gone, the still hungry chil- 
dren asked for more. " No, dears," said the mother, 
" you must go to sleep now ; you can't have any 
more to-night." " It's my turn to-night, Tony, to 
have the cup," said the little girl ; the boy gave it 
to her, and crawled over to the back side of the 
bed to his night's sleep. The girl licked the spoon, 
and then plunged her little hand into the cup to 
gather the last particle of the gruel left. "When she 
handed the cup to her mother, she turned up her 
eyes with a mournful expression, asking for "one 
spoonful more ;" which the poor mother refused. 

" Have you no more in the house ?" I inquired. 

" Yes, sir," she answered, " but only enough for 
us till Saturday, when the children's wages come 
due ; and I have laid the rest aside ; for it's better 
to have a little every day, than to have enough 
once or twice, and then have nothing." 

" My good woman," I replied, " I have money, 
and it is yours." We roused up the boy once more. 



188 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

and sent him to the bake-shop to get something to 
eat ; and while he was gone the widow told me her 
pitiful story, which I will give you in her own lan- 
guage as nearly as possible. 

" For a good many years my husband worked in 
a machine-shop ; and until my children were ten or 
twelve years old, we did not send them to the mills ; 
we wished to keep them at home as long as we 
could, for we knew they would grow sickly and 
feeble as soon as they began the hard life of the 
factory. His wages supported us all pretty com- 
fortably ; and I stayed at home and took in what 
sewing I could get (for not one half of the factory 
people know anything about such work), and the 
oldest children went to the mills. Although they 
had to work hard and a great many hours, yet when 
we all came together at night we were very happy, 
and saw a great many good days. But about a 
twelvemonth ago my husband died ; and that was 
a dark day for us all. He seemed to care only for 
us while he was sick ; and when he came to die, af- 
ter calling us all to him, and holding the children in 
his arras and kissing them, he said, * The only thing 
that troubles me, Mary, is, that I leave you and the 
children poor.' 

" I almost gave up in despair ; for I could see no- 
thing before me but the workhouse, where I pray 
God I may never go, if what they say of them is 
true. I saw nothing for my children but apprentice- 
drip or starvation, and I could hardly choose between 



THE widow's story. 18& 

them. The little comforts we had in the house I was 
obliged to sell to get us bread ; and the expenses of 
the funeral and the taxes soon swept away nearly 
all our furniture and my husband's clothes, and at 
last I was obliged to sell my own. 

" Six hungry children were staring me in the 
face, asking for bread ; and I saw that in a little 
while I should have none to give them. It was as 
painful to me as to have laid them in the grave ; but 
I was obliged to apprentice my four oldest children, 
and they see hard times. My health had been poor 
for a good many years, for my constitution was 
broken down by working in the mills while I was a 
girl. My husband found me when I was at work in 

the mill ; and we loved each other ; and he 

provided me a home, where we were very happy j 
and if he had not died — " 

Here the widow was overcome with exhaustion 
and grief, and fell back upon her bed. When she 
had partly recovered she continued : 

" But I thought I would not give up ; I knew I 
must not. I took in what little work I could get, and 
sent Tony to the mill. But I could get only a little 
work, and Tony got only two shillings a week, and 
we saw ourselves growing poorer and poorer every 
day. I knew I could not stand it long, but I went 
to the factory myself, and left little Meggy with a 
neighbour. I did not last long there ; the work was 
too hard for me. When I gave it up, I was obliged 
to send Meggy ; and it has been a sad work, sir, to 



190 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

see how pale and thin she grows; to break her sound 
sleep in the morning and send her off to the mill; 
and then to have her come home at night so tired and 
hungry, and only half a meal to eat, and so worn 
out that she falls to sleep before she eats that ! It's 
pretty hard, sir, then, to see an officer come into our 
cellar, and take the last penny we had on earth for 
taxes. Oh ! sir, I wish we were all in our graves, 
and then we should be at rest." 

Yes, blessed be God, there the wicked cease from 
troubling, and there the weary are at rest ! To es- 
cape all the sorrows and struggles of earth, the stings 
of adversity, and the pains of hunger ; to lie down 
peacefully in the tomb — oh ! there is a rich conso- 
lation in the thought ! 

The little boy returned from his errand with bright- 
ened features ; but the smile which played over his 
pallid countenance seemed like a faint light falling 
upon a grave : so little did the joy on his face conceal 
the deep-seated gloom that had been traced there by 
w.ant and sorrow. 

One thing was still wanting — a light. The boy 
lit up a small tin lamp, which stood on a shelf over the 
fireplace. " We don't use a lamp," said the widow, 
" only when we are sick in the night ; but I keep one 
against a time of need." 

And now little Meggy was wakened again, and 
the family gathered around the deal stand to eat, for 
the first time in many weeks, food enough to satisfy 
hunger. It was affecting to me to see the joy of the 



NO BIBLE. 191 

children, and the gratitude of the mother. In my 
heart I praised the widow's God for guiding my feet 
to her damp and cheerless home. 

I talked for an hour with the widow about the re- 
ligion of the Bible, the love of the Saviour, and the 
hope of Heaven. Her ideas on these subjects were 
extremely vague. 

Said she, " I used to go to church when I had 
clothes t© wear, but I heard what I could never be- 
lieve. When I heard the priest speak of a merciful 
God, who loves all his creatures so well that he does 
not let a sparrow fall to the ground without his no- 
tice, I could not forget that I, for no crime, had to 
toil on in poverty and wretchedness, and see the 
bread taken from the mouths of my hungry children 
to support the rich minister who never came near my 
cellar. If this is religion, I do not want it j and if 
God approves of this, I cannot love him." 

" But, my good woman," I replied, " your Bible 
tells you of the abounding mercy of God." 

" That may be, sir," she answered ; " but I have 
no Bible to read, although I believe I could read one 
some if I had it." 

I took from my pocket a small Bible, and read 
the story of the Saviour's love ; his life, his works 
of mercy, his kindness to the poor, his ministry, his 
death and resurrection. I tried to have her distin- 
guish between the corrupt abuses of the Established 
Rehgion and the Christianity of the Bible; between 
the unjust and cruel legislation of man and the just 



192 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and kind laws of God. I tried to point her to the 
Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world. 
I told her of the love of the Universal Father ; that 
she was his child j that He loved her better than 
she loved those dear children who were resting from 
their toils by her side ; that if she suffered, it was all 
ordered in mercy, for God did not willingly afflict 
his creatures ; that he was as kind in what he with- 
held as in what he bestowed ; that it was the desire 
of the Saviour to take her and her children, with all 
the weary, and oppressed, and sorrowful, home to 
Heaven, when they had done with this world, its 
cares, and its sufferings. She had but to love her 
Father ; trust his goodness ; be sorry for all that she 
had done that was wrong ; give herself away in an 
everlasting covenant to him in confidence, and she 
should meet the compassionate embrcbce of her 
kind Saviour. 

" Oh, sir," she said, " I think I could love such a 
Being ;" and, as she spoke, a smile, that seemed al- 
most unwilling to stay, spread its gentle glow over 
her once handsome features. " But," said she, after 
a moment's hesitation, " if there was such a Being 
as the Bible describes ; such a Being as you have 
told me of; so powerful that He can do all things; 
and so good that He is pained to see any of his crea- 
tures suffer, it seems to me He would help my chil- 
dren. He certainly would if He loved them as well 
as I do." 

I endeavoured to explain these things to her 



THE UNIVERSAL FATHER. 193 

mmd in as simple a way as possible. She replied, 
" I wish I could see all this as you do ; but I am so 
ignorant, I am afraid I never shall." And then, 
after a few v/ords had been said about death, she 
added, '• Oh, yes, sir, there is much pleasure in think- 
ing about death ; and if I and my children could all 
lie down and die to-night, I should be very happy. 
For if there is such a Being as you have read and 
spoken of, and we shall live after we are dead. He 
will provide us a home where the rich and the proud 
will trouble us no more." 

" Only believe it, and trust in the mercy which 
has promised it, and adore the Being who made you, 
and it shall all be yours; and there is one promise 
in the Bible specially adapted to you in your present 
circumstances. God has declared that He is the 
widow'' s God and the orphan's Father, and will hear 
their cry. He has given you a gracious invitation 
to come to Him in these tender words : ' Come unto 
me, all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest.' " 

" Oh ! sir," she answered, " I think I would go to 
Him ; but I am very ignorant, and I have been very 
wicked ; what shall I do V 

" He will instruct your ignorance and enlighten 
your soul ; and all your sins He will forgive and for- 
get — only trust in his mercy. He has declared He 
loves all who trust in his mercy. Be willing to obey 
Him ; to submit to your lot, though it be hard, without 
repining; kiss the hand that afflicts you ; go to Him; 

Vol. L— R 



194 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

give yourself and your children away to Him in con- 
fidence, and He will never forsake you or them. 
And if you are called to die soon, and leave these 
orphan children on the wide world, remember that 
in Heaven is the orphan's Father; that He loves 
your children better than you do, and will protect 
them more tenderly. He will watch over them with 
fidelity, and be a kind Parent to them when you are 
dead ; and at last gather them all up into that bright 
world where there shall be no more sorrow, or sigh- 
ing, or pain; where God shall wipe the tears of 
earth from every eye ; and where the poor orphan 
shall never be heard to say, ' I have no father.' " 

" Oh !" exclaimed the widow, as she clasped her 
hands together, and tears and smiles covered her 
face, " I will go to God ; I will trust Him, and love 
Him forever; I think I see it. I can bear these 
things better now. It is hard to see my children 
suffer. I should not care much for myself if I could 
see these dear little things have bread to eat. But 
if it is God's will, I think I can bear it all now. I 
thank God, sir, that you ever came here. I never 
shall forget it. I wish you would pray before you 
go, sir, if it will not be asking too much." 

We knelt by her bed, and I tried to pray. I felt 
that we need not pray to God as though He were in 
a distant heaven — He was with us. It was a holy 
scene, and we were forgetful that we were in that 
cold, damp cellar, for the atmosphere seemed like 
that we are told fills Heaven. 



HOW INFIDELS ARE MADE. 195 

When we rose from prayer, the widow took my 
hands and pressed them with great earnestness, say- 
ing, " I have nothing to give you, sir ; but I will re- 
member you, and try to pray for you as long as I 
live." I felt in my inmost soul that the widow's 
prayer was answered. / was blessed. 

One pleasure was still in store for me. I gave 
her what money I thought it would be right in my 
circumstances to spare, and left her home. It seem- 
ed unlike the room I had entered. ***** 

Oh ! thought I, as I pursued my way through the 
dark, narrow streets to my lodgings, what have sin 
and oppression done in the world ! How have they 
marred the fair works of God ! It is a world of tears 
and broken hearts; but it was not always so — this 
bright Record stands upon the page of inspiration, 
" God has made everything beautiful in his time" — 
it shall not always be so. 

How many hard-earned dollars has that poor 
widow paid to support the Established Church of 
England, and how much advantage has she ever de- 
rived from it ? It matters not how much ecclesi- 
astical dignitaries prate and write about " our Holy 
Religion," " Apostolical Succession," and the " Di- 
vine Rights of Kings and Bishops :" one such case 
as this cannot be disposed of by an argument as long 
as the Bodleian Library. It matters not how much 
they declaim from the pulpit about the mercy of God, 
and his regard for the poor. The poor are told that 
these men are the heaven-descended ministers of this 



196 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

religion — men who afflict the poor ; who shoot wid- 
ows' sons to get their tithes (for cases of this kind 
have occurred in Ireland), and at last become infidels. 
Gibbon, with all his philosophy, did not escape the 
same conclusion. He tells us the corruptions and 
abuses of Christianity made him a skeptic. 

Let the clergy of the Church of England preach 
such doctrines to others than poor widows and 
hungry children, from whose scanty wages their 
princely incomes are filched. If there be a structure 
of tyranny and abuse more iniquitous in the Eye of 
Heaven than any other, it is the despotism of a state 
which converts the sublime religion of Christ into 
an instrument of avarice and ambition : of ambition, 
for the political elevation of the aristocracy ; and of 
avarice, which starves widows and orphans to array 
in gold those who are pompously styled " God's 
ministers." God's ministers they surely are ; and 
so are thunderbolts, tempests, conflagration, and 
death ! 

When I returned from my walk to the house of 
the gentleman with whom I was staying for a day 
or two, I related some of these circumstances. 
" Why, sir," said he, " that is very bad, to be sure ; 
but suppose I should tell you that just at this time 
there are 40,000 operatives in Manchester who are 
out of work, and obliged to depend upon charity 
for bread to keep them from starvation. 

" I employ nearly a thousand hands in my mills in 
ordinary times ; but, owing to the general commer- 



WHAT CAN BE DONE FOR THE POOR ? 197 

cial distress which now prevails, I am obliged to 
keep my hands upon half work ; and their wages 
are not sufficient to provide them with enough of 
the coarsest kind of food to prevent their suffering 
most severely from hunger ; and multitudes are dy- 
ing by direct starvation, or diseases immediately in- 
duced by privation. During the last seven weeks I 
have contributed one hundred guineas a week to the 
fund for supplying the poor with bread, and it seems 
but a drop in the bucket." 

I inquired what was to be done ; who was to 
blame for this immense amount of misery. " Why, 
sir," he said in reply, "you have asked me two 
questions which involve the whole subject of politi- 
cal economy ; and to answer them intelligently, one 
must be familiar with the whole fabric of English 
society. He must understand the history and gov- 
ernment of Great Britain in all their branches ; and 
he must be thoroughly acquainted with the charac- 
ter and condition of the manufacturing districts. 

" I am persuaded that we have the most expensive 
and oppressive government in the world ; that there 
is no nation which taxes its labouring classes so 
heavily ; no government which does so much to pro- 
voke a revolution; and none where a revolution 
seems so likely to occur, or where it would be so 
violent and bloody when once commenced. It re- 
quires more to arouse the English mind than the 
French, but it also takes it longer to grow calm after 
excitement. 

R 2 



198 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

*' But you inquire particularly about the manufac- 
turing interests : with these I am familiar, as I have 
been a manufacturer myself for 25 years. The suf- 
ferings of the operatives are very great. English 
manufacturers, as a body, are not an inhumane or 
ungenerous class of men ; but the nature of their 
business is such, that they are obliged to conduct it 
with the utmost economy, in order successfully to 
compete with the manufactures of other parts of the 
world ; and they become so accustomed to the suf- 
ferings and privations of their operatives, that, as a 
matter of course, they are less affected by them than 
strangers. We are oblio;ed to hire our work done 
as cheaply as possible ; and such are the fluctuations 
of our foreign trade, that our hands are often unem- 
ployed, and at such times must necessarily suffer. 

"Parliament have passed laws to regulate the 
factory system, but it is all a dead letter. It is im- 
possible that any should be so constructed that their 
provisions shall meet the exigencies of the case. 
A law that shall benefit the operative must injure 
our business, unless government remove some of the 
iniquitous burdens which they, and not the manufac- 
turers, have imposed upon the poor. For I can con- 
vince any candid man that the operatives receive 
from us enough to make them comfortable ; enough 
to clothe and instruct them and their children well ; 
and elevate them a thousand fold above their pres- 
ent condition, if they were not robbed of the great- 
er part of their wages to support the aristocracy. 



CHURCH-RATES AND OTHER TAXES. 199 

" I will make this appear. The iniquitous corn- 
laws take one third of all the wages of the opera- 
tives from them, and put it into the pockets of the 
landholders. The commonest necessaries of life, in 
consequence of the bread-tax, cost as much again in 
England as they do on the Continent or in the United 
States. And the government receives no advantage 
from this enormous revenue ; it goes to the landed 
aristocracy. 

" Besides, the operative has other heavy burdens 
to bear : he is compelled to support the Religious 
Establishment ; and although I am a Churchman 
(from education, I suppose, like nine tenths of all its 
members), yet I feel deeply the impolicy and the in- 
justice of taxing men to support a Church which they 
are opposed to in principle ; and, indeed, it has long 
appeared to me clear, that when Christ's kingdom 
on earth cannot be maintained but by the legislation 
of man, then it is time to let it fall. If the Rock of 
Ages be not a firm and everlasting foundation for 
Truth, I am persuaded it will have no security in 
any foundation of man's forming. This, then, is an- 
other item. 

" Then there are a multitude of regular or occa- 
sional taxes the poor are obliged to pay, which keeps 
them in a state of the deepest depression. Lord 
Brougham once wrote the following words on this 
subject : ' The Englishman is taxed for everything 
that enters the mouth, covers the back, or is placed 
under the feet : taxes are imposed upon everything 



200 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

that is pleasant to see, hear, feel, taste, or smell j 
taxes upon warmth, light, and locomotion ; taxes 
upon everything on the earth, in the waters, and un- 
der the earth; upon everything that comes from 
abroad, or is grown at home ; taxes upon the raw 
material, and upon every value that is added to it by 
the ingenuity and industry of man ; taxes upon the 
sauce that pampers man's appetite, and on the drugs 
that restore him to health ; on the ermine that deco- 
rates the judge, and on the rope that hangs the crimi- 
nal ; on the brass nails of the coffin, and on the ribands 
of the bride ; at bed or at board — couchant ou levant 
we must pay. The schoolboy whips his taxed top; the 
beardless youth manages his taxed horse by a taxed 
bridle, on a taxed road ; and the dying Englishman, 
pouring his medicine, which has paid seven per cent, 
into a spoon which has paid 30 per cent., throws him- 
self back upon his chints bed, which has paid 22 per 
cent. ; and having made his will, the seals of which 
are also taxed, expires in the arms of his apothecary, 
who has paid .£100 for the privilege of hastening 
his death. His whole property is then taxed from 
two to ten per cent. ; and, besides the expenses of 
probate, he pays large fees for being buried in the 
chancel, and his virtues are handed down to poster- 
ity on taxed marble; after all which, he may be 
gathered to his fathers to be taxed — no more.^ 

" This is all strictly true. The Englishman is tax- 
ed for everything ; and this enormous system of tax- 
ation impoverishes the labouring classes ; takes away 



EMPLOYMENT OF CHILDREN. 201 

from them all the high motives of an honourable am- 
bition, and keeps them continually in a state of dis- 
couragement and dejection. 

" At different times Committees of Inquiry have 
been appointed by Parliament, and they have pre- 
sented shocking reports of the miseries of the labour- 
ing classes, particularly of the operatives in the fac- 
tories, which have roused the public indignation ; and 
laws have been passed to do away the abuses of the 
system. The attention of the committees was prin- 
cipally called to the condition of the factory children, 
in regard to whom, without doubt, the greatest abom- 
inations existed. 

" No statutory restrictions respecting the employ- 
ment of children in the mills and factories of the 
United Kingdom existed until the year 1802, when 
an act of Parliament was passed for the preservation 
of their health and morals, directing the magistrates 
to report whether the factories were conducted ac- 
cording to law, and to adopt such sanatory regula- 
tions as they might deem fit. This act was followed 
in 1816 by one generally known as Sir Robert Peel's 
Act; imposing various regulations on the employ- 
ment of children in cotton-mills. Both of these acts 
proved inefficient, and under them the abuses they 
were designed to remedy were found to have enor- 
mously increased. 

" In 1831 they were both repealed by what is 
called Sir John Hobhouse's Act, which provided 
that in cotton factories, to which it alone related, no 



202 GLORY ANB SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

child should be employed till it had attained the age 
of nine years ; and that no person under the age of 
eighteen years should be suffered to remain in the 
factories more than twelve hours in one day ; and 
that on Saturdays they should work only nine hours. 
This act was repealed in 1833 by an act containing 
the following provisions, and comprehending all the 
statutory regulations at present applicable to the 
factories of the United Kingdom. 

" 1. That after the 1st of January, 1834, no per- 
son under eighteen years of age shall be allowed to 
work in the night — that is, between half past eight 
P.M. and half past five A.M., in any cotton or other 
factory in which steam or water, or any other me- 
chanical power, is or shall be used to propel the 
power of the machinery, excepting in lace factories. 

" 2. That no person under eighteen shall be em- 
ployed more than twelve hours in one day, nor more 
than sixty-nine hours in one week. 

" 3. That there shall be allowed in the course of 
every day not less than one and a half hours for 
meals to any person restricted to the performance of 
twelve hours' work. 

" 4. That after the 1st of January, 1834, no child, 
except in silk-mills, shall be employed who shall not 
be nine years old. 

« 5. That after the 1st of March, 1834, no child, 
except in silk-mills, shall be employed in any facto- 
ry more than forty-eight hours in one week, nor 
more than nine hours in any one day, who shall not 



STATUTORY REGULATIONS. 203 

be eleven years old; nor after the 1st of March, 
1835, who shall not be twelve years old ; nor after 
the 1st of March, 1836, who shall not be thirteen 
years old ; and that these hours of work shall not be 
exceeded, even if the child has worked during the 
day in more factories than one. 

" 6. That children whose hours of work are re- 
stricted to nine hours a day, shall be entitled to two 
holydays and eight half-holydays in every year. 

" 7. That children whose hours of work are re- 
stricted to nine hours a day, are not to be employed 
without obtaining a certificate from a physician or 
surgeon, certifying that they are of the ordinary 
strength and appearance of children of the age be- 
fore mentioned, which certificate is to be counter- 
signed by some inspector or justice. 

" 8. That it shall be lawful for his majesty to ap- 
point, during pleasure, four persons to be inspectors 
of factories, with extensive powers as magistrates to 
examine the children employed in the factories, and 
to inquire respecting their condition, employment, and 
education ; and that one of the secretaries of state 
shall have power, on the application of an inspect- 
or, to appoint superintendents to superintend the exe- 
cution of the act. 

" 9. That those inspectors are to make all rules 
necessary for the execution of the act, and to en- 
force the attendance at school for at least two hours 
daily out of six days in the week, of children em- 
ployed in the factories; from whose weekly wages 



204 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND 

a deduction not exceeding one penny in every shil- 
ling, for schooling, shall be made. 

" 10. That no child shall be employed who shall 
not, on Monday of every week, give to the factory- 
master a certificate of his or her attendance at school 
for the previous week. 

" 11. That the interior walls of every mill shall 
be whitewashed every year. 

" 12. That a copy or abstract of this act shall be 
hung up in a conspicuous part of the mill. 

" 13. That the inspectors shall regularly once a 
year report their proceedings to one of the secreta- 
ries of state. 

" The act also contains regulations extending the 
hours of work where time shall be lost by the want 
of or an excess of water in mills situated upon a 
stream of water, &c., &,c. 

" Now this, you will say, is a humane and just bill : 
it must remove the worst evils. But this is not the 
case ; and I can show that as great, if not greater, 
evils now exist. It is impossible for this law to be 
observed ; for many families would starve to death, 
unless they worked more hours a day than it permits. 
Many operatives could not maintain themselves under 
its operation. Parliament might just as well have 
voted that all the colliers in the mines should dig 
their coal on the surface of the ground. 

"It has been of great service, I doubt not, to the 
apprenticed children ; but of little service to others. 
For Parliament rnay pass as many humane regulations 



NEVER SO MUCH DISTRESS IN ENGLAND. 205 

as they please, to protect the operatives : they will 
all be in vain, so long as these same men groan 
under the weight of the corn-laws and the vast 
burden of taxation. 

" I think there are fewer instances of brutal vio- 
lence and abuse, and that there is not as much night- 
work done. Some of these regulations have been 
carried into effect; and perhaps a general advantage 
has been derived from the act. But, should I give 
an opinion, I should say that there never was a time 
when disease, suffering, ignorance, and crime were 
so rife among the English operatives as at present. 

"The manufactures have been greatly improved, 
and immense fortunes have been made; but it has 
all been at the expense of the operative. Never 
was there a time when the philanthropist and the 
Christian had so much cause to mourn over the con- 
dition of the working classes as now." 

I am aware, sir, there are many persons seemingly 
well informed on this subject, who differ widely from 
the opinions here expressed ; though I fear the judg- 
ments of such are not a little swayed by interest. 
But I cannot doubt that the statements of this gen- 
tleman were made with candour, and may be relied 
on as very near the truth. " No people," says the 
old proverb, " are better than their laws." The 
stranger, in reading this factory bill, would suppose 
that it throws a broad shield of protection over the 
labouring poor ; but in England the prevailing in- 
fluences are stronger than the laws. 

Vol. I.— S 



206 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

[Since my return I have conversed with a large 
number of persons in this country who are famihar 
with the manufacturing system, and the condition of 
the operatives of England, and they have all con- 
curred, in the main, in the opinions contained in this 
letter. Some of them have thought the picture in 
some respects, perhaps, overdrawn ; but I am bound, 
in justice to myself, to say that a much greater num- 
ber, and among them the most intelligent, have as- 
sured me that they did not consider one feature of 
it exaggerated. 

I have recently had several conversations with a 
superintendent of one of the largest cotton factories 
in the State of New- York, who returned in the 
spring of 1840 from Great Britain, where he had 
spent several months in collecting information in re- 
gard to the English manufactories, for the benefit ol 
the company which employed him. He is a native 
of Scotland, and perfectly familiar with the practi- 
cal operation of the system on both sides of the At- 
lantic. He gave me his opinion upon every point I 
have dwelt on in this letter. 

" Wherever I went, in the manufacturing districts," 
said he, " I saw extreme poverty, ignorance, and suf- 
fering. I did not find a factory in England where 
the operatives seemed to be comfortable^ no one 
where there was not much that was painful to wit- 
ness. As a general thing, the overlookers are stern 
^nd tyrannical, and the operatives expect few fa- 
^ ours : the poor are very degraded in England, or 
they would not bear such treatment. 



BARBARITIES Of THE OVERLOOKERS. 207 

" Said an overlooker of a factory in the north of 
England to me, 'How do you manage to get along 
with republican operatives ? I never would superin- 
tend a factory where I could not do as I pleased with 
my hands. Here we can make them behave; they 
know they are in our power, where they ought to be, 
and they walk straight. I never would go round the 
mill and request a hand to do this or that ; I would 
give him my order, and if that didn't do I would 
give him something else. I have been in the United 
States, and I wouldn't stay there. You can't find a 
man, woman, or child there, that don't feel as good 
as his employer.' 

" This same spirit pervades the whole body of 
proprietors and overlookers : there are some excep- 
tions to the general rule, but, as a class, they are 
overbearing and exacting. I have many times seen 
a child knocked to the floor by a blow on the side 
of the head, which stunned him. I have often seen 
little girls and women kicked unmercifully in the 
mills, for the slightest mistakes, that an American 
superintendent would overlook, or only reprove in a 
kind way. Beating and kicking are the most com- 
mon ways of administering reproof ; and, of course, 
you will find a down-cast look and a slavish air 
about the operatives. 

" The children never have a stool or chair to sit on, 
when they have a short moment of rest from their 
work. In our factories we let all the hands hav a 
chair to rest in during these intervals. When ve 



208 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

think, that in following a pair of spinning-mules in 
Manchester, a child must walk over 20 miles in 
a day ; and with the improved machinery recently 
introduced, the distance is increased to 25 or 26 
miles; and that the child has frequently to walk 
several miles to and from the factory, we see the 
cruelty of not allowing them a seat to rest on when 
their work is for a moment suspended. 

" And I think the morals of the English opera- 
tives must be very depraved. I saw multitudes of 
women with their persons most immodestly exposed, 
at their work ; and heard a good deal of lewd con- 
versation between the different sexes. Many of the 
children, also, in some of the mills, are nearly naked. 
Indeed, it is impossible, I think, to preserve much pu- 
rity among persons accustomed to such habits. 

" Some of the English operatives receive nearly 
as high wages for their work as we pay ; but they 
work harder to get their money, and it will not go 
more than half as far (nor that, I think) in procu- 
ring the necessaries of life. I went into the houses 
of many of the hands, and, almost without exception, 
they were filthy, gloomy places. Few of the com- 
forts of life were to be seen there ; and the stench 
was dreadfully offensive. Animal food they seldom 
eat, potatoes and the coarsest bread being almost 
their entire food ; and but few of them have enough 
of this. 

" The operatives nearly all look unhealthy — pallid, 
sallow, and worn-out ; destitute of spirit, and enfee- 



WORSTED MILLS MOST UNHEALTHY. 209 

bled by privation and hard work. The apprenticed 
children are very often treated with greater cruelty 
than slaves, and are, perhaps, much worse off." 
(This, too, is the language of a warm abolitionist.) 

" The hand-loom weavers are as bad off as they 
■can be : they work nearly all the time they are not 
asleep, and, being obliged to compete with powerful 
labour-saving machinery, receive only a few pennies 
a day for their work. They are a very miserable 
class of labourers. 

" I saw no factories where the work seems to cut 
down the operatives, and bring them to the grave 
so quick as the worsted mills. The rooms are heated 
up to 120 degrees of Fahrenheit's thermometer ; they 
are not ventilated, as the fresh or cool air would in- 
jure the fabric in its process of manufacture ; and 
thus the hands are obliged to work in apartments 
heated like furnaces. I am a pretty strong man, but 
I never step into these rooms without feeling the 
perspiration start in one second from every pore. I 
could stay in none of them more than two or three 
minutes ; and as soon as I came out into the fresh 
air again, even in the warmest days, a chill went 
over me. No person can live long in these factories. 
The children nearly all die of consumption in a 
short time ; and I never cast my eyes upon so pale 
and emaciated a set of human beings in my life. 

" I would lay it down as a general principle, that 
the English operatives are sacrificed to the spirit of 
trade. I think the English people are as much in- 
S2 



210 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

fatuated with it, and will practise as much cruelty 
and injustice towards their operatives in securing the 
interests of trade, as do the Southrons in raising cot- 
ton. The truth is, that in England, while the rich 
and the noble have all that the heart can desire, the 
•poor man there is a slave. It is an insult to the 
spirit of freedom and to the common sense of man- 
kind, for England to talk about the liberty of her 
people. In England, nothing makes a man free hvt 
money."] 

Perhaps I have already dwelt upon this subject 
too long ; but I cannot dismiss it without extracting 
a few words from the Essays of Elia. They speak 
of the early years of the poor, and were written by 
one who knew how to sympathize with the unfor- 
tunate : 

" The innocent prattle of his children takes out the 
sting of a man's poverty. But the children of the 
very poor do not prattle ! It is none of the least 
frightful features in that condition, that there is no 
childishness in its dwellings. ' Poor people,' said a 
sensible old nurse to us once, ' don't bring up their 
children; they drag them up.' The little careless 
darling of the wealthier nursery, in their hovel, is 
transformed betimes into a premature reflecting per- 
son. No one has time to dandle it ; no one thinks it 
worth while to coax it, to sooth it, to toss it up and 
down, to humour it. There is none to kiss away its 
tears. If it cries, it can only be beaten. 

" It has been prettily said, ' that a babe is fed with 



CHILDREN OF THE VERY POOR. 211 

milk and praise j' but the aliment of this jioor babe 
was thin, unnourishing. The return to its little baby 
tricks and efforts to engage attention, bitter, cease- 
less objurgation. It never had a toy, or knew what 
a coral meant. It grew up without the lullaby of 
nurses ; it was a stranger to the patient fondle, the 
hushing caress, the attracting novelty, the costlier 
plaything, or the cheaper off-hand contrivance to 
divert the child ; the prattled nonsense (best sense 
to it), the wise impertinences, the wholesome lies, the 
apt story interposed, that puts a stop to present suf- 
fering, and awakens the passion of young wonder. 

" It was never sung to ; no one ever told to it 
a tale of nursery. It was dragged up, to live or 
to die, as it happened. It had no young dreams. 
It broke at once into the iron realities of life. A 
child exists not for the very poor, as any object of 
dalliance ; it is only another mouth to be fed, a pair 
of little hands to be betimes inured to labour. It is 
the rival till it can be the co-operator, for the food 
with the parent. It is never his mirth, his diversion, 
his solace; it never makes him young again, with 
recalling his young times. 

"The children of the very poor have no young 
times. It makes the very heart to bleed to overhear 
the casual street-talk between a poor woman and 
her little girl ; a woman of the better sort of poor, in 
a condition rather above the squalid beings which we 
have been contemplating. It is not of toys, of nur- 
sery-books, of summer holydays (fitting that age), 



212 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

of the promised sight or play, of praised suflficiency 
at school. It is of mangling and clear-starching, of 
the price of coals, or of potatoes. The questions of 
the child, that should be the very outpourings of 
curiosity in idleness, are marked with forecast and 
melancholy providence. It has come to be a woman 
before it was a child. It has learned to go to mar- 
ket ; it chaffers, it haggles, it envies, it murmurs ; it 
is knowing, acute, sharpened; it never prattles. 
Had we not reason to say that the home of the very 
poor is no home ?" 

So true is it, that " man thinks of the few, God 
of the many." In the midst of a world which has 
been blighted by oppression, it would be gloomy 
to live, if we could not spend our lives in making it 
better. 

I have the honour, sir, to be 

Your obedient servant, 

C. Edwards Lester. 



VISIT TO JOHN THOROGOOD. 213 



Chelmsford, — , "640. 

Dear , 

Yesterday I came to this place, which is thirty 
miles northeast of London, chiefly to see John Thor- 
ogood, who is a victim of the tyranny of the Estab- 
lished Church. I have spent several hours with him 
in the Chelmsford Jail ; and I have seen no man for 
a long time for whom I feel more sympathy and ad- 
miration. I found my way 'to the jail, and asked 
permission to see Mr. Thorogood. The keeper re- 
luctantly turned the key and unbarred the door. 

" Yes, sir," said he, " you must come in, I sup- 
pose, but I wish the authorities would take this 
Thorogood away ; for once in a few minutes, day 
after day, and month in and month out, some one 
comes to the door, 'Can I see John Thorogood, sir?' 
' Can I see Mr. Thorogood, sir V ' I have come to 
see this famous Thorogood ;' and I have got sick 
of his very name. Why, if you were to stay here 
one week, you would think there was nobody in all 
England worth seeing but John. But I don't com- 
plain of him or his wife — that's all well enough ; still 
I don't want to be bothered with John any longer." 
The jailer led me to Mr, Thorogood's apartment, 
and I introduced myself. He seemed to be about 
thirty-five or forty years old, with a stout and well- 
made person. His countenance wears a kind but 
resolute expression, and his forehead denotes a con- 



214 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

siderable degree of intellect. He is a mechanic, 
and has always moved in the common walks of so- 
ciety ; but he is a man of extraordinary intelhgence 
and great firmness of character. I told him that I 
had come to Chelmsford to see him ; that I consid- 
ered him a persecuted man, and wished to know 
something of his history. 

" Yes, sir," said he, " I am a persecuted man, and 
I thank you for coming to see me. I am an obscure 
and unworthy individual, but the Providence of God 
has placed me in circumstances very trying, and I 
have endeavoured to act like a freeman in Christ. I 
said I was glad to see you, and I am; and I 
thank you for the sympathy you manifest in ray be- 
half: not because I begin to grow irresolute and 
faint-hearted ; for I should be just as firm, I think, 
if I stood alone ; but then, you know, it does one 
good to see the face of a friend, and take hold of his 
hand, when one is in trouble or persecution for con- 
science' sake." 

" How long have you been confined here, sir 1" 
"Eighteen months, sir; and all for what some 
consider a very small matter. They say John Thor- 
ogood had rather lie in jail eighteen months than 
pay five and sixpence church-rate. Just as though 
I cared anything for that five and sixpence. Why, 
I will give any of those gentlemen half a sovereign 
or more any time for a good cause ; but I am not in 
Chelmsford Jail for five and sixpence at all. I am 
here because I will not surrender my liberty of con- 



THOROGOOD REFUSES TO PAY CHURCH-RATES. 215 

science. That is the highest and most inviolable of 
all human rights. I can bear oppression until you 
invade the sacred ground of native moral rights; 
and then I cannot, and will not, give way to the wick- 
ed claims of despotic civil rulers. 

" But I will tell you something about the history 
of this matter, and then you can judge for yourself. 
I am, as you well know, a Dissenter. For many 
years I felt it my duty to oppose the Established 
Church. I wept over its corruptions, its abuses of 
power and truth, its tyrannical oppressions of the 
consciences of good men ; but still I paid my church- 
rates, although I received no advantages whatever 
from the institution I supported. I regarded this 
payment of church-rates rather as a civil duty. 

" But after suffering a good many trials of feeling, 
at last I became satisfied it was wrong for me in any 
way to give my countenance to the Establishment, 
and I refused to pay five and sixpence church-rate. 
I was summoned before the Ecclesiastical Court to 
be tried, and, of course, condemned by my enemies ; 
for in England, when the Church prosecutes a suit 
at law, you must know that they are both judge and 
jury. I thought and prayed over the matter, and 
concluded it was best for me to pay no attention 
to it. 

" The result of it all was, that for contempt of 
court, as it was called, I was thrown into this jail, 
the 16th of January, 1839, where I have remained 
ever since, and where T vnll remain till J die, rather 



216 GLORY AND SHAMK OF ENGLAND. 

than surrender the principle for which I am contend- 
ing. That principle is no less than that for which 
Protestant reformers in all ages have contended: 
the very principle for which England broke away 
from her allegiance to Rome ; for which Huss and 
Jerome, and ten thousand others, went to the stake ; 
the same principle for which John Bunyan lay twelve 
years in Bedford Jail ; the greatest, the dearest prin- 
ciple for which man ever contended — the high and 
sacred right of conscience. 

" I cannot believe that I owe religious allegiance 
to any man : God is my only master. No man, or 
body of men, have a right to place any restrictions 
upon my religious liberty. The free exercise of con- 
science in matters of religion is a right which man 
can neither give nor take away. Religion is sacred 
to conscience ; conscience is sacred to God, and all 
human interference is sacrilege. Religion is seated 
in the unll ; it is essentially voluntary ; exaction 
either of profession or payment is destructive of 
it. To establish religion hy law, is first to corrupt 
and then to destroy it. The Established Church is 
one of the greatest structures of wrong the world 
ever witnessed. Why, who does not see this ? it is 
as plain to me as a self-evident truth. 

" The other day Sir Robert Inglis, the zealous ad- 
vocate of the High Church party in Parliament, 
came to pay me a visit ; and I asked hire a few 
questions which perhaps he did not expect, for he 
was not exactly prepared for them. I said to Sir 



WRONGS PRACTISED ON DISSENTERS. 217 

Robert, ' Is it not a wrong to refuse Dissenters inter- 
ment in the national burial-grounds, except their 
friends are willing to have the deceased Dissenter 
give the lie in his death to all he had said and done 
while living, which he would do if he consented to 
be buried with the forms of the Church 1 Is it not 
wrong to exclude him from the national schools and 
universities, except he conform to the Church 1 Is 
it not wrong to compel the Dissenter to contribute 
to support a Church which he conscientiously disap- 
proves 1 Is it not an act of oppression, the greater 
because it comes from the stronger and wealthier 
party, and because, too, he has to support his own 
Church ? 

" ' And is not his Church as dear to him ; are not 
his church privileges, his liberty of conscience, the 
religious rites and worship of his own Zion, the 
affection and comfort of his pastor, and wife, and 
children, all as dear to the Dissenter's heart as to 
the Churchman are his? Do you not, sir, commit 
great wrong when you take from me those rights 
and privileges which you prize so dearly ? If the 
golden rule is to be our standard of action, you can- 
not outrage it more palpably than by throwing me 
into jail because I will not quietly give away my 
highest rights as a man and a Christian. 

" ' Do I not suffer the greatest wrong, when any 
party seeks to prescribe to me in religion, either what 
I shall believe or how I shall express my faith ? Has 
not compulsory payment produced nearly all the evils 

Vol. I.— T 



218 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

which the best friends of the Establishment acknowl- 
edge and lament ? Has it not placed its ministry 
beyond the wholesome influence of the people ? Has 
it not dishonoured religion by making the Church 
the creature of the State 1 Has it not attracted the 
worldly, and the indolent, and the inefficient to the 
Church as it ministers ? Who does not know that 
the Prayer-book contains little besides the Mass-book 
translated into English ? That the pope offered to 
confirm it, if the Church of England would join that 
of Rome 1 That Episcopal clergymen of great rep- 
utation have declared such a union of the two 
Churches 'practicable ? That the efficiency of Epis- 
copal ordination is derived entirely through the 
popish prelates ? That at the accession of Eliza- 
beth, NINE THOUSAND AND ELEVEN CatHOLIC PRIESTS, 

out of NINE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED, joined the Church 
of England ; and who supposes that they gave up 
their papacy by doing it 1 The Papists and Protest- 
ants worshipped together in the English Church 
until they were prevented by the pope ; and at the 
Reformation, Parliament transferred the entire pow- 
ers exercised by the pope in this country to Henry 
VIII. and his royal successors.' 

" I spoke to Sir Robert about a good many other 
things. I thought I would tell him something that 
he would not be very apt to forget ; and I express- 
ed myself with great freedom. There was a trap 
laid in London by the High Church party the other 
day, and Sir Robert was sent down here to spring 



THOROGOOD AND THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH. 21d 

it. My friends there had said I was not comfortable 
here; and the Tories wished to get a confession 
from me that I was. I had received intimation that 
I might expect certain persons down here about the 
time of Sir Robert's visit, and I was on my guard 
when he came. 

"He asked me if I was not comfortable here. 
Said he, ' Mr. Thorogood, you seem to be surround- 
ed by a good many conveniences and comforts.' 
' No, sir,' I answered, ' I am not comfortable, and 
never can be, so long as my liberty is taken away. 
You degrade a man ; you trample on a man's high- 
est rights, and then ask him if he is not comfortable.^ " 

" Well, Mr. Thorogood, how long do you expect 
to remain here V I inquired. 

" That, sir, is a question I cannot answer. My 
friends in Parliament are constantly bringing the 
matter before the House ; they are labouring man- 
fully and zealously in my cause, and keep me ad- 
vised of all their proceedings. I receive scores of 
papers and pamphlets on the subject. They will do 
all they can ; but I do not expect relief for a good 
while. For if the Church party should give up and 
consent to my liberation, they would abandon the 
whole question : they would never be able to heal the 
wound such a decision would inflict upon the Estab- 
lishment. 

" They are right in saying, ' The question is not 
whether we shall let an honest and worthy man go 
out of his prison and enjoy his freedom ;' for they all 



220 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

"would be glad, undoubtedly, to see me liberated ; 
but the question is, ' Shall we surrender the rights 
of the Church 1 Shall we concede the great question 
of church-rates, tithes, and government patronage 1 
If we let this man go, we must give up the Church ; 
and the consequence of it would be a dissolution of 
the union of Church and State.' 

" It has always happened, I believe, that every 
great question which has ever yet been disposed of has 
been settled in this way. Nothing has pained me so 
much as to see how insensible the great mass of the 
Dissenters are to the infinite importance of this ques- 
tion. Why, sir, multitudes of them have come to 
me, and besought me to give it up ; they said, ' Why, 
John, you are only one man !' So was Luther only 
one man ; and suppose he had given up. 

" Look back on the history of the world, and you 
will find that one man has worked a Revolution. 
One man is enough to start a Reform ; but he must 
have help to carry it on. Oh ! brethren, I say to 
them, if you would all come along with me ; if the 
millions of English Dissenters would take the same 
stand that I have, what a spectacle would be pre- 
sented ! Why, we would gain our cause at once. 
To assert our rights would be to secure them ; it 
would be a pretty sight, surely, to see half the people 
of England in jail ! Oh ! would to God the faint- 
hearted and policy-bewitched Dissenters would go 
along with me. I want to see no violence ; none 
is needed. We could dissolve that Unholy Alliance 



JOHN THOROGOOD's WIFE. 221 

of the Cross and the Throne as peaceably as we ef- 
fected the Revolution of 1688. 

" It is a mystery which I cannot unravel, why the 
Dissenters submit to these abuses. They will get 
up great meetings ; they will make enthusiastic 
speeches ; they will write flaming pieces about the 
corruptions of the Church ; they will clamour vio- 
lently about rights of conscience, and yet not a soul 
of them has the courage to take the stand that poor, 
ignorant John Thorogood, the shoemaker, has. But 
they will have to do it before they ever get their lib- 
erty." 

While he was speaking his wife came into the 
room. "Here, Mary," said he, "I want to in- 
troduce you to Mr. . He lives in the United 

States, that blessed land where there is no Estab- 
lished Church, no church-rates or tithes, except what 
a man is willing to tax himself." 

She is a very neat, pretty woman, and worthy to 
be the wife of John Thorogood. I asked her if she 
was not almost discouraged and disheartened. 

" Oh ! no, sir, far from it," she answered. " I 
was at first of a mind that my husband should pay 
the five and sixpence, and not go to jail ; and it 
came very hard not to have him at home with us 
nights ; and I thought 1 could not bear up under it. 
But he talked to me a good deal ; and we prayed 
about it ; and at last I could agree with him ; and 
I feel now that I would rather see John Thorogood 
die than to give up his religion. He don't need any 
T2 



222 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

cheering up ; his courage is as strong as it can well ^ 
be. But if he ever gets down-hearted, I can raise 
his spirits for him. No, sir, he shan't give up now. 
It's cost too much already to have nothing come of 
it. I can come and stay with him from morning 
until nine o'clock in the evening ; and the children 
can come too. We have a good many kind attentions 
from friends and strangers, and we are working for 
liberty of conscience for all England. No, sir, we 
can't give up." 

It was a sublime spectacle to see two humble, 
simple-hearted Christians taking such a lofty stand : 
a spectacle which may challenge the admiration of 
the world. If I were an Englishman, I think I should 
be more proud of that sight, than of the glorious 
structure they call St. Paul's Cathedral. 

They gave me a large collection of papers and 
pamphlets on the subjects which had occupied our 
attention ; and I purchased two very fine lithographic 
prints of Mr. Thorogood, on the bottom of which he 
wrote his autograph, in a bold style ; the likeness is 
perfect. Before I left he asked me to pray ; and we 
all knelt together in prayer. As I rose to go they 
both pressed my hand affectionately, and called down 
the blessing of God upon ray head. Mr. Thorogood 
promised to write to me in America, and tell me of 
his fortunes, when any favourable or adverse change 
should occur. 

John Thorogood has all the elements of a reform- 
er. If his learning and rank corresponded with his 



goldsmith's "deserted village." 223 

resolution, he would work such a revolution in Eng- 
land as it is to be feared will be effected now only 
by violence. But so long- as idolatry of rank pre- 
vails so extensively among all classes, it is out of the 
question ; " it would be in bad taste" to let a man 
who has moved in John Thorogood's humble sphere 
lead on a great reform. I must confess that I have 
seen no spectacle on this side of the water, which 
has so excited my surprise and indignation as this. 
Let the world, who have so long dreaded the power 
of the English government, and admired its philan- 
thropy in breaking the chains of negro slavery, and 
its zeal in sending missionaries to barbarous climes 
to tell the glory of the Saviour's love, contemplate 
the British lion with his paws upon John Thorogood 
in Chelmsford Jail. 

After I left the jail I called at the sign of the , 

and found Miss waiting for me. I had enga- 
ged to visit at her cottage that evening. Our ride 
was along one of those smooth, hawthorn-bordered 
roads, which everywhere traverse this beautiful island. 
We turned from the main road down into a green 
lane, to visit the house in which it is said Goldsmith 
wrote his "Deserted Village." The old hamlet 
bears the name of Springfield. It is supposed by 
many to be the spot which Goldsmith describes in his 
" Deserted Village ;" and that in the early history of 
New-England, its quiet and liberty-loving inhabitants 
emigrated from their homes to the banks of the 
Connecticut, and there founded the town of Spring- 



224 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. m 

field. But the common opinion seems to be, that! 

" Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain," ' 

was in Westmeath county, Ireland — quite a differ- 
ence I 1 1 

The carriage stopped at the gate, and we walked " 
through a beautiful yard of flowers and shrubbery, 
which surrounds the house. A very sweet girl came 
to the door, and we asked if we could see the room 
in which the " Deserted Village" was written. Per- 
mission was cheerfully granted. 

" Are you quite sure," I inquired, " that the ' De- 
serted Village' was written in this room?" "Why, 
sir," she answered, as a slight blush, mingling with 
-a smile, passed over her features, " we are quite sure 
that some of the old people are quite sure that it was. 
We don't like to dispute them ; and it's very delight- 
ful, too, to think that Goldsmith once sat in that old 
oak chair, and wrote his verses there. I suppose 
some time ago there was a little doubt about it ; but 
we all so firmly believe it now, we should be quite 
shocked to hear it questioned." 

What a magical power there is in genius ! The 
possibility that the ground on which we stand w?8 
once pressed by the feet of such a man, makes the 
spot as holy as the shrine of a departed saint. 

" Perhaps," said the girl, " you would like a flow- 
er to carry away with you ; here is a rose growing 
by the window where Goldsmith used to sit. Some 
have even said that it sprung from the stem of the 
one he planted ; and if you will promise to believe 



THE VILLAGE CHURCHYARD. 225 

this too, as well as the rest of my story, you shall 
have it." 

" Oh ! you are very kind : I will believe anything 
you say ; I have a great horror of unbelief. Yes, I 
do believe it — thank you." 

After strolling leisurely over the grounds where 
the writer of the Vicar of Wakefield once lived, we 
parted with our fair cicerone, and drove round the 
old church through the village. The quiet shadows 
of evening twilight were gently falling over the 
scenery ; the rusted hands of the old clock (what a 
charm there is in old clocks since Dickens has writ- 
ten about Master Humphrey's) were slowly wander- 
ing over the defaced dial on the gray tower, which 
was overhung with the greenest ivy, clambering from 
the ground to its top ; a few old trees stood near the 
church, and the rooks were flying from the tower to 
seek their homes for the night in the branches. Un- 
der their deep' shadows the generation that anima- 
ted this scene in Goldsmith's days, had long ago 
lain down to their last repose. 

Over the graves of some who had been distin- 
guished, handsome monuments were placed ; rude 
old stones marked the spot where most of the villa- 
gers had been buried ; while a green mound, cover- 
ed with a few weeds or flowers, was the only me- 
morial that rose over the ashes of the humble and 
the poor. All we knew of the company of sleepers 
there was, that they once lived and moved in this 
lovely hamlet ; heard- offers of mercy from that old 
temple ; and were gathered to their fathers. 



226 GLORY AND SHi«t.M£ OF ENGLAND. 

We passed over the village green, where the noisy 
urchins were playing, and across which the cows 
were going to the farm-houses with " the tinkling 
bell." It was one of those lovely rural scenes which 
abound in England, of whose cottages and hedge- 
rows, churches and graveyards, the old poets have 
so often told us. When we had left the village a 
mile behind us, the mellow tones of the bell came 
musical by over the fields. 

Before us we had a single peep through the trees 
at " Quiet Home," the cottage of my friend. It was 
all English ; you could not find the like of it but in 
this island. I wish I could tell you all about that 
" Quiet Home." My visit, which I intended should 
be confined to two hours, lasted as many days ; and 
it will be a long time before I forget that sweet lit- 
tle cottage, which stands nestled there among the 
green frees and shrubbery. 

It is not so dreadful a thing as might happen, af- 
ter all, to be an old maid, you would say, if you 
could for once step across the threshold of " Quiet 
Home." The sisters have passed what in common 
parlance is called the sunny side of thirty ; but their 
hearts are just as fresh and buoyant, warm and gen- 
erous as ever. If fortune, beauty, wit, and accom- 
plishments can gain " a settlement for life," they 
could have been married long ago. But, in truth, 
as they said, " they were as happy in each other's 
society as they had any desire to be ; earth was a 
Paradise to them; it might not be, if any change 
should occur." (I beg you will not think, dear 



I 



ABSENT FRIENDS. 227 

, that /proposed any; though I know not what 

I might have done, had I not been already blessed.) 
Books, music, gardens, fountains, flowers, rich land- 
scapes, fortune, health, confidence, sisters' love, which 
cannot be selfish, a house in town, and friends every- 
where ! How few on earth have all this ! 

We all gathered around the hospitable board, 
and passed away the evening in conversation about 
France, and Spain, and Italy, where they had trav- 
elled ; our own land of the Pilgrims ; of friends, 
some of whom were in distant countries, some on the 
wide sea, and some in Heaven — who cannot tell of 
loved ones who are dead — who are in a brighter 
world than ours ; and who does not love to speak 
of them ? " Oh ! the grave ! the grave ! It buries 
every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every 
resentment ! From its peaceful bosom spring none 
but fond regrets and tender recollections." Who 
knows how to speak to the heart better than Irving 1 

One of the ladies put these lines into my hand in 
manuscript : 

ABSENT FRIENDS. 

Oh ! when the heart is lonely, 

Musing on joys gone by — 
When memory's mournful tribute 

Is the whisper of a sigh — 
Still, still, all is not sorrow ; 

With sadness pleasure blends, 
As from the past we borrow 

The smiles of absent friends. 



228 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

How oft, when gently stealing 

Alone 'neath twilight ray, 
When every harsher feeling 

Is chasten'd by its sway, 
Will memory softly ponder, 

As o'er the past she bends, 
And erring fancy wander 

To greet our absent friends. 

When joy and pleasure lighten 

The bosom by their power ; 
When peace and comfort brighten 

The social evening hour ; 
The heart, still true to friendship, 

Its kindly wishes sends 
To those by distance parted. 

Our much-loved absent friends. 

We think on those who've left us ; 

We see their vacant seat ; 
We feel, had they been with us. 

Our bliss had been complete. 
To hours by sorrow shrouded 

Their presence joy could lend ; 
We would that skies unclouded 

Still brought each absent friend. 

But oh ! the sweet emotion 

This thought will oft excite. 
That in the heart's devotion 

With us they may unite ; 
That the same arm which guards us, 

O'er them in love extends. 
That the same eye beholds us 

And cherish'd absent friends. 



A DREAM OF HOME. 229 

And when stern death hath summon'd 

Some loved one from our sight ; 
When joy is changed to sorrow, 

And morning into night, 
That arm can still sustain us, 

Can kind assistance lend, 
Can teach us that hereafter 

We may rejoin our friend. 

Then, oh ! thou gracious Saviour, 

When earthly comforts flee, 
May our souls find an anchor, 

A resting-place in thee : 
Be Thou our hope, Redeemer, 

Our guide unto the end. 
Our solace and protector. 

Our ever-present Friend. 



Who does not feel happy after a gorgeous 
dream? Who does not love to have the mind 
break away from the base thraldom of matter, and 
assert her empire in the spiritual world ? I read the 
lines I have copied for you, and retired to my cham- 
ber. I had a delightful dream of home and kindred. 
Around our old ancestral hearth, on which burned a 
bright wood fire, I saw gathered every friend, living 
and departed, we ever truly loved : such a group as 
cannot now be assembled, but in defiance of matter, 
on earth or in heaven. Those same kind voices, which 
have long been hushed in death's sleep, I heard 
again. I felt once more the warm pressure of hands 
that have mouldered away. The old wainscoted 
halls echoed the music of gay voices which once 

Vol. L— U 



S30 GLORY AND SHAMB OF ENGLAND. 

ruiig there, now heard no more on earth; and the 
same generous hearts that had so often on Christmas 
and Thanksgiving-day evenings clustered around 
that old altar of home, were now beating by that hap- 
py fireside as in other days. I did not think, as I saw 
them all gathered there, how they had been scatter- 
ed like chaff upon the summer threshing-floor. No, 
they were all there then, as we shall yet see them in 
some bright circle in Heaven. Oh ! I would as soon 
surrender all belief in a future state, as I would that 
it will be a world where ties which death has sever- 
ed shall again be united ; where the associations of 
friendship shall again be renewed, and those long 
separated shall meet to part no more. 



The next morning I took a walk before sunrise, 
and heard, for the first time since I have been in 
England, the notes of the lark. I found some old 
ruins on a hill-top, near the bank of a stream ; an 
old graveyard, the inscriptions all faded : old Mor- 
tality himself could not restore them. The horn of 
the London coach came winding up the valley ; and 
the sun spread its rich beams on the hill-tops, while 
the meadows through which the stream wandered 
were covered with a deep mist that concealed half 
their beauty, only to make them the more lovely. 

One must have breathed the close and murky air of 
London many days ; mingled in its restless crowds ; 



DOMESTIC LIFE IN ENGLAND. 23J 

been wearied with its everlasting din, to prize such 
a morning walk in the country, with its pure air and 
green fields. When I returned breakfast was ready. 

An English breakfiast is one of the best things in 
the world — coffee and toast. This, you will say, is 
nothing very extraordinary : true ; but this is not the 
breakfast. The London papers left on your table 
by the news-boy, fresh from the cylinder : with the 
voice of the universal world they come to your dwell- 
ing ; and then something better still — conversation : 
these make up the breakfast. 

I have formed a great liking for some of the do- 
mestic usages of England. I think there can be no 
question that the English surpass us in the true 
economy of life. By the English I mean just what 
every one does : not the mass of human beings ; of 
hearts, nerves, and sympathies ; but that portion of 
society in prosperous circumstances, constituting, 
perhaps, about one twentieth part of the population. 
This class have reduced the economy of living to a 
perfect system. They know how to enjoy life better ; 
and they live longer. They cluster more comforts 
and attractions around their homes; and devote 
more time to intellectual and social improvement. 
There is an air of comfort and enjoyment in their 
houses you seldom find in America. They love their 
homes better; they seek their happiness there. 
Their children are more neatly dressed ; they have 
more finished educations ; exercise more in the open 
air ; their morals are better guarded ; their manners 
more agreeable ; they have better taste 



232 GLORY AND SlLUUi OF ENGLAMD. 

An Englishman takes a bath in the morning; 
walks with his children in the garden ; eats leisure- 
ly his cheerful breakfast ; learns all the news ; goes 
to his business and works hard till two o'clock, and 
then his work for the day is done. He spends a full 
hour at his dinner-table; rides a few miles with his 
wife and children ; and devotes the evening to so- 
ciety. He is satisfied if he is slowly accumulating ; 
takes life easy, and enjoys himself as he goes along. 

The American rises earlier ; eats a hasty and 
hearty breakfast without speaking ; has no time to 
converse, for he is planning for the day. He plun- 
ges into business ; catches a bite at one o'clock " if it 
comes handy ;" works on till dark ; goes home worn 
out ', drinks a cup of tea, and sits down to his desk 
to calculate. If his children climb his knee, "the 
envied kiss to share," the mother is summoned to 
take them away and send them to bed, for their fa- 
ther cannot be interrupted : he must attend to his 
business. 

The wife sits in the corner the livelong evening, 
communing with herself. If her husband takes his 
seat on the sofa by her side (which is actually 
sometimes done), she says, " Well, hubby, I'm glad 
you've got through with your business. Now I must 
read you a word in this charming new work of Ir- 
ving's," 

" Oh, fudge, Mary, don't bother me with such 
trash. I'll buy books, as many as you please" (which 
is true as holy writ), " but you must read them. But 



Clement's speculation. 233 

now throw aside your book, and we will talk about 
something of more consequence. I've made five 
hundred dollars to-day as sure as fate." 

" Why, my dear, I'm very glad. Pray tell me all 
about it." The book is thrown upon the table, and 
the dutiful wife listens to her lord's report. 

" There's young , you know, has been out to 

Iowa. Well, he's made an independent fortune in 
six weeks. He took away only $2500, and he holds 
the deeds of fourteen thousand acres of land, besides 
twenty-seven lots in the new city just laid out in 
County." 

" Well, dear, but tell me how you've made your 
1500 to-day." 

" Why, I bought five of his city lots for $500 ; 
and I could sell them to-morrow for twice the 
money." 

" But, my dear, have you ever seen them ?" 

" Why, no ! I've not seen them exactly, but — 
bless my soul, only think of it — buy five splendid 
city lots for $100 apiece. I don't want to see 
them. I know I can sell them for double the money 
— yes, treble — but I won't sell them at any price ; 
I'll keep them ; and I've been thinking we had bet- 
ter sell out, and move to Iowa — it's only two thou- 
sand miles out there." 

" Oh ! Clement, I beg you won't think of it ! We 
have just got ready to enjoy life now. You have mon- 
ey enough ; we are rich ; we have the prettiest house 
in town ; all our friends are here ; our garden, and 
U2 



234 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

trees, and flowers, and our good old New-England 
home. Give it all up ! Why, you will break my 
heart, so there." — So the plan don't work very well. 
He goes to bed in silence, and she sits up to weep 
a while ; but at last, consoling herself with the 
thought that 

" As long as a woman's bless'd with a tongue, 
She'll be sure to have her own way," 

she dries her tears, and takes up her book. 

Go there in six months, and you find the house de- 
serted: the family have "gone to the West." On 
arriving at his destination, Clement finds his city lots 
two hundred and fifty miles in the woods, fifty 
from a clearing, and twenty from any house, in 
the midst of a dense forest, somewhere between the 
farthest settler and the jumping-off place — the whole 
city occupied by trees, and ruled by a Common 
Council of bears, wolves, "coons, and other var- 
mint," their silent sway disturbed only by the plain- 
tive notes of Mary as she sings of her old New- 
England home ; the sound of Clement's axe cutting 
his own wood now ; or the sharp crack of the wild 
Indian's rifle — you know the rest. Of how many 
thousand stories like this we have heard ! Of how 
many Americans can it be said, they started on no- 
thing — worked hard — got suddenly rich — became 
dyspeptic — just got ready to enjoy life — lost their 
fortune by speculation, or — were blown up in a 
steamboat ! 



ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LADIES. 235 

There is with us, among all classes, a feverish de- 
sire to be suddenly rich. There are strong bilious 
tendencies in our climate, and the whole American 
people are nervous, excitable, and characterized by 
great cerebral activity. The American launches 
upon a wild, foaming current the moment he enters 
the business world. Money is his object, in the 
restless pursuit of this, he gives himself no leisure for 
literature, none for society, except at some great, 
vulgar jam, ycleped a party. At forty he is an old 
man ; and in five years more he is dead, it is non- 
sense to expect such men can live long — as soon 
look for a long-lived race-horse. We are the least 
practically philosophical of any people in the world. 

If a Wall-street banker were to leave his office at 
two o'clock, to spend the rest of the day with his 
family, he would be hissed on 'Change. Go into 
any town in the United States, and you will find 
elderly men in the full zenith of acquisition, and oc- 
togenarians who have not yet made enough. It is 
lamentable. 

No, there can be no comparison instituted between 
the English and Americans in regard to the economy 
of domestic life. And I think that while our girls, 
from fifteen to twenty, are far more beautiful and 
lovely than English girls of the same age ever are, 
yet their women quite as strikingly surpass those 
of our own country in personal appearance. The 
American girl is beautiful as a wild flower, but al- 
most as fragile. She marries before her form has 



£4;-;j (;LOr;V A;\I> SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

gained its fair and full proportion ; the cares of a 
family press heavily upon the young mother ; the 
brilliant colour goes from her cheek ; and in a few 
years she dies of consumption. I should think that, 
as a general fact, the American ladies marry at least 
five or six years younger than the English. They 
confine themselves to the close air of ill-ventilated 
apartments ; are not in the habit of walking any dis- 
tance, or of riding on horseback; have the cares, 
generally much of the hard labour of the parlour, 
nursery, and kitchen, thrown upon them; seldom 
know what a bath means — why, it is a wonder they 
live so long. 

The voices of the English women are much sweet- 
er — their laugh is music ; they have a fine sense of 
propriety, but are not fastidious : neither are they 
prudish. Captain Marryat, or some one else, tells a 
story of an American girl who dressed the legs of her 
sofa in pantalettes. I never have met with just such 
a case ; but should not wonder if there were such ; 
for it quite shocks an American girl to hear an in- 
sinuation that ladies have those shocking things, 
called " legs" and " knees" — in England. She 
would fain have us believe her pretty feet are pin- 
ned to . This is prudery ! You cannot find it 

in England j and no man will say it is because Eng- 
lishwomen are not modest and virtuous. 

But you will not understand me to speak aught 
against my fair countrywomen. I think England 
deserves the praise in these things, and I cheerfully 



EQUALITY OF CONDITION IN AMERICA. 237 

award it. But there is a circumstance not to be 
forgotten. These statements are not intended to ap- 
ply to every case ; for I have seen homes in America 
as well regulated ; women with as fresh and health- 
ful countenances ; as cultivated, many of them, as 
any I have seen here. And the proportion they bear 
to the whole of society is much greater. 

In this country, the wealth, the power, the learning, 
the cultivation, the comfort, are all confined to the 
few. England never mentions the wide and steril 
desert where the masses, like the children of Israel, 
are wandering ; where the fiery flying-serpents, the 
bitter waters of Meribah, the scorching sun, and the 
wild beasts make their journey terrible — English- 
men never write or speak of these things — oh, no ! 
They are forever talking about the oases. But in 
America streams and rivulets flow by every man's 
d welling ; the poor sit under their own vine and fig- 
tree ; all have competence, and there is " none to 
make afraid." 

We have but two classes : the working men, who 
are advancing in wealth and improvement j and 
those who have elevated themselves to opulence and 
refinement. 

True, we have in some of our cities a few try- 
ing to ape the aristocracy of Europe — to get up a 
livery, and all that ; but their number is not suflEicient 
to be dignified with the title of a class ; they are 
only a small clique. Such efforts, too, are generally 
failures. They make a dash for a while ; but it is 



238 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

a shinplaster aristocracy. A " specie circular," a 
'' panic," a " bank suspension," a " veto," dissolves 
the charm. A mortgage of their gewgaws is made 
out to the usurer; the family rusticate, and be- 
come republicans once more : we forgive them for 
their folly, for they have^" paid dear for the whistle." 
Their furniture is sold at the auction room for a 
few good hard dollars ; and their neighbours learn 
wisdom from their example, as imperishable as the 
stars : a buoy tells the story — " Ah, I see ! some bark 
has gone down here — I will tack !" 

Yes, England boasts of her oases. True, they are 
beautiful; but it is not a very delightful idea to a 
plain republican, that the fields for five miles round 
have been robbed of their soil to beautify a few 
green spots. The farmer understands matters better 
than to scrape the rich mould into heaps, and then 
raise a fine crop from a patch, and impoverish his 
whole plantation to do it. I think it quite likely his 
brother farmers would be more apt to laugh at his 
folly than admire his oasis. 

Oh ! no, that is the best government which secures 
to all the greatest amount of happiness. Show me 
a very learned man in England, and I will show some 
thousands around him to match the spectacle, who 
cannot read the Bible nor write their names: a 
rich man, and I will show you a thousand beggars ; a 
polished and beautiful woman, who seems to have 
only enough of the earthly mingled in her constitu- 
tion to say that she is mortal ; one who, in her 



CONTRAST OF WEALTH ADN DEGREDATION. 239 

grace and loveliness, would almost make you believe 
she had sprung, like the fabled Muses, from heaven; 
and hard by, yea, following her carriage, I will show 
one made as beautiful and as good as she, who is 
driven to sell her virtue for a bit of bread ; who 
hunts the filthy drains for a morsel of castaway 
food ; and who, in default of that, is gathering 
with her naked hands the vilest filth of the streets 
into her apron to sell for manure, to enrich that 
" beautiful creature's" estate, that her degraded sis- 
ter may, for her labour, get a crust or a bone before 
she dies. 

Blessed be God, such sights are not to be found in 
our own land. Diflfuse the wealth, the learning, the 
cultivation of the few in England over the mass of so- 
ciety, and it would be poverty, ignorance, and ill- 
breeding, in comparison of the United States. Should 
an Englishman, by any strange casualty, ever glance 
over this letter, he will shake his head ; ten to one 
he will say it is not so ; for this is the way an Eng- 
lishman generally disposes of unpalatable truths. 
But I am quite inclined to think the old adage true : 
" Facts are stubborn things." 

Most truly yours, 



840 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGI.\ND. 



Liverpool, — , 1840. 

Dear , 

To-day I have whiled away a few hours in St. 
James's Cemetery. It is a quiet, green burial-ground 
in the upper part of the town ; a difficult place to 
describe, and yet I want you to have some idea 
of it. 

The Cemetery is enclosed by a massive stone wall, 
surmounted by a handsome iron railing, and has 
foui' entrances. It is on the site of an old quarry, 
from which immense quantities of stone have been 
excavated for the public buildings and docks of the 
town. These excavations have left a wild, beautiful 
glen, fifty feet deep, ninety yards wide, and one 
fourth of a mile in extent — nearly in the form of a 
crescent. 

The eastern side presents a wall of masonry al- 
most perpendicular, in which one hundred and five 
catacombs have been excavated. The western side 
and the two extremities are bordered by sloping 
banks, planted by the smaller classes of forest-trees; 
and the level winding plane below is tastefully dis- 
posed in shrubberies, serpentine walks, and plots of 
grass bordered with flowers. 

There is always a pleasure mingled with the sad- 
ness we feel in wandering among the resting-places 
of the dead, when we see flowers and shades plant- 
ed around them. Half the melancholy is forgotten 
as we associate the memory of the departed with 



ST. James's cemetery. 241 

the delicate and beautiful works of nature. We 
love to forget the decay and dishonours of the tomb, 
and among the emblems of hope and life think only 
of immortality. 

And there is something very delightful, too, in 
wandering through such a holy and tranquil spot 
in the midst of a large town. It seems like a tri- 
umph of poetry and the sublime interests of the 
soul over the restless spirit of gain and business. 
The progress of wealth and commerce has been on- 
ward, but one spot has been spared. It is true, as 
Irving says, " Few pageants can be more stately and 
frigid than an English funeral in town. It is made 
up of show and gloomy parade : mourning carriages, 
mourning horses, mourning plumes, and hireling 
mourners, who make a mockery of grief." I have 
witnessed to-day such a scene in this Cemetery; but 
there was a peaceful, rural calm spread over it when 
the pageant had disappeared. 

Many visiters, particularly at evening, resort here. 
The natural effect of this must be to refine and ele- 
vate the mind. We cannot turn away from the 
ceaseless whirl and excitement of the world, and 
wander among the solemn homes of the dead, with- 
out being made better. 

The oratory, where the funeral service is per- 
formed, stands on the brink of a perpendicular rock, 
overlooking the green Cemetery below. It is a 
classic gem of Doric architecture, and a perfect spe- 
cimen of a Greek Hypaethral temple. 

Vol. I.— X 



242 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

As I was strolling about the Cemetery, a funeral 
procession came in ; and I followed it to the new- 
made grave. The utter heartlessness with which 
the officiating clergyman read the burial service 
shocked me. He hurried away from the band of 
mourners clustered around the grave, humming to 
himself a light air, and apparently as little affected 
with the solemn scene as though death were a dream, 
and the eternal world a fiction. 



This morning, in company with a friend, I went 
to see the house of Roscoe, " The Father of Liver- 
pool;" the noble philanthropist, and the elegant 
historian of the Medicii. Through Irving's Sketch- 
Book the name of Roscoe has been transmitted to 
every hamlet, and almost every house in America. 

It arouses the indignation of the man of letters, 
to think of the ingratitude of the people of Liver- 
pool towards their generous Benefactor. The town 
whose monuments were associated with his benevo- 
lence and genius, and which he had embellished 
with his own private fortune, saw the home where 
he had clustered around him everything that could 
impart happiness to himself or render him useful to 
others, and from which he came forth every day to 
cheer and adorn his native city, entered by retainers 
of the law; and the halls that had been hallowed 
by the voice of the Muses, desecrated by the auc- 
tioneer's hammer. 

Some weeks ago I had the pleasure of riding a 
hundred miles through the north of England, in 



roscoe's parting with his books. 243 

company with a lady who was a relative of Roscoe ; 
and she related to me many interesting circumstances 
connected with the history and last days of that 
illustrious man. She said that the most painful 
scene she ever witnessed was when she saw him go 
into his library for the last time. He was deeply 
attached to his books; and when he was called to 
part with them, it seemed like giving up his old fa- 
miliar friends. Several days had elapsed since le- 
gal processes had been instituted against him ; and 
during this period he expected that assistance from 
his friends which would have been so grateful to 
his heart, and which he had reason to look for in this 
painful crisis. 

When the unaverted stroke of the law at last fell, 
he went into his library, walked restlessly around it 
a few times, and seemed deeply agitated. Then 
seating himself in his favourite chair by the window, 
which looked out upon the green meadows through 
which the Mersey winds its quiet way, he wrote 
these lines : 

TO MY BOOKS. 

As one who, destined from his friends to part, 
Regrets his loss, but hopes again erewhile 
To share their converse and enjoy their smile, 
And tempers as he may Affliction's dart ; 

Thus, loved associates, chiefs of elder art. 
Teachers of wisdom, who could once beguile 
My tedious hours, and lighten every toil, 
I now resign you ; nor with fainting heart; 



244 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

For pass a few short years, or days, or hours, 
And happier seasons may their dawn unfold, 
And all your sacred fellowship restore; 
When freed from earth, unlimited its powers. 
Mind shall with mind direct communion hold, 
And kindred spirits meet to part no more. 

Good Roscoe ! — ^yes, those " few short years" have 
passed, and thy pure spirit has gone to the generous 
embrace of the great and the good who went before . 
thee to that world where " kindred spirits meet to 
part no more." What a cheerless world this has 
always been for genius, and what a cold reception 
such noble spirits meet from it, till they have passed 
beyond the reach of its praise or its censure. 

To my friend, who said to me as we left this spot, 
which was once the elegant home of Roscoe, "Now 
let me show you some other places" — " No," I an- 
swered, "I will see nothing to-day but Roscoe's 
grave." 



Last Monday evening I attended the monthly con- 
cert of all the Dissenting Churches in town at the 
Crescent Chapel. A very beautiful address was de- 
livered by Mr. Birrell, of the Free Baptist Church, 
on the genius and history of David Brainerd ; and 
on Tuesday evening I met an interesting circle of 
friends at his house ; among others, the lady of the 
minister of the church where WicklifFe, " the morn- 
ing star of the Reformation," preached nearly five 
hundred years ago. That venerable edifice is still 
standing, with the same pulpit from which Wickliffe 



RIDE TO CHESTER. 245 

preached, and the old stone chair in which he used 
to sit in the vestry. 

After tea, Mr. Birrell handed down from the ceil- 
ing a picture of Edwards, whose name is cherished 
on this side the Atlantic with the deepest veneration. 
I related to him the unpublished history of the af- 
fection of Brainerd and Jerusha Edwards, which 
presents a beautiful illustration of " love stronger 
than death." 

You remember that it was the desire of President 
Edwards, as well as of his daughter, that she should 
be with Brainerd in his last illness. She stood by 
his sick-bed, and was his ministering angel till he 
died. In a little while they met again in Heaven. 



I think this has been one of the happiest days of 
ray life. I always had a great desire to see the old 
Roman city of Chester. It is thought to be the most 
interesting old town in England ; and I will endeav- 
our to give you as correct an idea of it as possible. 
We crossed the Mersey at Liverpool, and took a 
post-chaise at Woodside to Chester, sixteen miles. 
It was delightful to get away from the din and 
smoke of the city, and ride through the garden 
scenery of England. 

We passed several quiet villages and hamlets, and 
on every side plantations were stretching away, 
broken into numberless little fields by green haw- 
thorn hedges. One of the sweetest things in Eng- 
lish scenery is the irregularity and naturalness of 
X 2 



i-lb GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

these hedgerows and fields. They are wholly with- 
out plan, and seem the work of chance. The Eng- 
lish villages are little sheltered clusters of white- 
washed cottages, reminding us, by their appearance, 
that they were built in troublous times, when their 
dwellers sought to be near each other for mutual 
protection : for it is said that there is not a village 
in England which has not at some time or other 
been disturbed by the wild and barbarous echoes of 
war during the days of her civil commotions. Al- 
most all the dwellings stand immediately on narrow, 
winding streets, their low and moss-grown roofs and 
projecting casements coming nearly to the ground — 
all overhung with ivy and honeysuckle, and chil- 
dren playing by the door. A little farther on you 
see some more venerable and spacious mansion, 
where the great man of the little village lives ; and, 
last of all, in some quiet spot, the abode of the 
pastor, overshadowed by the lofty and time-worn 
church ; and all around it " the rude forefathers of 
the hamlet" sleeping. Oh ! you would not believe, 
to ride by these English homes, that this beautiful 
island could be the abode of so much heart-break- 
ing wretchedness. But many of those little chil- 
dren are hungry ; and many who once dwelt here 
were glad when they could lie down by that old 
church to their final sleep. 

In two hours we had passed fifteen miles over the 
smooth road from Woodside, and before us lay the 
venerable city of Chester. We felt strange erao- 



DESCRIPTION OF CHESTER. 247 

tions; for we were approaching the gates of a walled 
town, which had been the camp of the 20th legion 
of the Roman army for 400 years. When the City 
of David was falling under the cruel arm of Rome, 
those mailed warriors were here erecting their forti- 
fications, and extending the bounds of an empire 
which embraced nearly the whole known world. 

Chester stands on the bank of the River Dee, and 
is surrounded by a massive M^all two miles in circuit, 
entered by four gates, one on either side of the city. 
It has been the crowded abode of successive gener- 
ations for seventeen hundred years. In some places 
the walls have mouldered to the ground, while on 
the north side they still lift their time-blackened 
ramparts one hundred feet high, as if bidding defi- 
ance to the storms and shocks of time, which long 
since laid the great empire which reared them, in the 
dust. 

The finest tower still standing is on the northeast 
part of the city ; and it was from this that the un- 
fortunate Charles I., in 1645, saw his noble army 
routed on the neighbouring fields of Rowton Moor. 
The Castle still lifts its proud front, and overhangs 
the waters of the Dee, This castle has been the 
scene of many a bloody tragedy in former ages. 
It was the prison of Richard II. before he resigned 
his crown to Henry of Lancaster ; and while he was 
here locked up, Chaucer was writing his poems, and 
Wickliffe making the first English translation of the 
Bible. There is, also, a massive round tower yet 



; 



248 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

standing, built by the Romans, and still bearing the 
name of Caesar. It inspires one with a strange awe, 
to wander over these monuments of that great em- 
pire, which for ages made the world tremble at her 
name. 

Where now are those mailed columns which 
once moved through these streets 1 gone ! Where 
those brave knights who met on yonder tournament 
ground in days of chivalry, to contend for the love 
of the fair and the applause of the brave 1 Where 
the conquerors who have, one after another, for a 
brief hour, hung out their flag of victory from these 
old towers ? gone — all gone. It is among such ru- 
ins, if ever, that we feel " what shadows we are, 
and what shadows we pursue." 

As we passed down from the walls, we entered the 
solemn Cathedral. It is a spacious, irregular pile of 
red stone. Some parts of it were built by the Sax- 
ons 1200 years ago; some are in the style of the 
Norman conquest ; and the rest in the rich Gothic of 
the fifteenth century. This great temple of God 
stands on the ground once occupied by a temple to 
Apollo. 

We were most interested in that part designated 
as the monastery, and which was dedicated to St. 
Werburgh, a beautiful and pious daughter of the 
King of Mercia. It subsequently became the abbey 
church of a monastery of Benedictines. In passing 
through the cloister and chapter house, we seemed 
to hear voices from the old walls, telling their mel- 



TOMB OF HUGH LUPUS. 249 

aneholy story of dark deeds and cruel self-tortures, 
committed by monks whose religion consisted chief- 
ly in the belief that they could best win the love of 
the Deity by lacerating his image ; of noble hearts 
whose fountains of sympathy and social love were 
here frozen up ; of the wreck of sixty generations. 

Here we were shown a stone coffin of Hugh Lu- 
pus, a nephew of William the Conqueror, and first 
Earl of Chester, which was discovered a hundred 
years ago; the body wrapped in an ox-hide for a 
winding-sheet : it lies in the midst of Gothic gran- 
deur and monkish relics. The Marquis of West- 
minster, who resides at Eaton Hall, four miles from 
Chester, is the lineal descendant of Hugh Lupus; 
and probably there are few men in the world besides 
him, who can tell the exact place where rests the 
dust of an ancestor who died seven hundred years 
ago. 

We drove out of the city on the south side, over 
a magnificent bridge of light freestone, which spans 
the Dee in a single lofty and graceful arch of two 
hundred feet. The Dee winds beautifully through a 
range of luxuriant fields, and is overshadowed by 
stately elms. Two miles from the bridge we enter- 
ed Eaton Park through a pinnacled and richly-orna- 
mented octagon lodge, over a smooth road of gravel, 
where not a spear of grass is permitted to grow. 
This sweeps gracefully, for the first mile, through 
thickly-set plantations of every diversity of growth, 
imbosoming at this time of the year, amid their va- 



250 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ried tints of green, the bud and the blossom of every 
flowering shrub and tree known to the climate. 

We then passed for half a mile over open ground 
which commands distant views of the country, and, 
through a vista behind, a beautiful perspective of 
Chester and her antique towers. This part of the 
park is finely ornamented with groves, clumps, and 
solitary trees, under whose shade several hundred 
deer were reposing. We soon came to an embat- 
tled gateway of stone, flanked by towers, sculptured 
with the armorial bearings of the Grosvenors, and 
passed into the pleasure-grounds which surround the 
Hall. In a few moments we saw the turrets of the 
Hall peering through the dense wood which guards 
it on the north; and in coming into an inner lawn 
the whole western front of this splendid pile burst 
upon the view. It is built of light freestone, in the 
richest Gothic style, and is four hundred and fifty 
feet long, exclusive of an extensive range of ofl&ces, 
coach-houses, &c., of the same elegant architecture. 
The whole is adorned with sculptured heraldic de- 
vices, and surmounted by pinnacles, turrets, and em- 
battled towers. 

The grand entrance is through a Gothic portico 
of clustered pillars. A complete harmony of design 
reigns through this entire mass of architecture. The 
freestone, marble, oak, and mahogany, down to the 
most minute fixture, are all wrought in the same or- 
namental Gothic style. The entrance-hall is very 
noble and lofty. The floor is a tesselated pavement 



EATON HALL. 251 

of fine raarble, and cost ten thousand dollars. A 
magnificent chandelier is supported by a pendant in 
the centre. The chimney-pieces are of the finest 
Italian marble, flanked on either side by niches, in 
which stands the ancient armour of four knights ; and 
you would be astonished that a human being could 
move with such an immense weight of metal about 
him. 

In passing a gallery at the farther end, you find 
yourself in the midst of one of the most extensive 
and beautiful open corridors on the globe ; extending 
the entire length of the edifice, the perspective either 
way terminating at a distance of more than txvo 
hundred feet, where a stream of glowing and brill- 
iant light is pouring in through stained windows. 
The suites of rooms on the east and west fronts com- 
municate directly with this corridor, and the bed- 
rooms in the same manner with a corresponding cor- 
ridor above. We were first led into the Chapel, 
which is a chaste and beautiful room, receiving its 
light from a large, finely-painted window, where the 
scholar reads the name of Jehovah in Hebrew. Here 
the whole household assemble for prayers every day, 
and worship on the Sabbath. 

I learned a fact of much interest in regard to the 
chaplain. In walking through his gardens a few years 
ago, the marquis inquired of one of his gardeners, 
who was a serious man, where he attended church. 

He replied that he went to hear Mr. , because 

he liked his preaching better than any he ever heard ; 



252 GLOKY AKD SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and he expressed a wish that his lordship would take 
occasion to hear him, A few Sabbaths after, the 
marquis invited the clergyman referred to to officiate 
in the Chapel of the Hall, and was so much pleased 
with his services that he made him his private chap- 
lain. The marquis is understood to be a sincere 
friend to religion, and is distinguished for his phil- 
anthropic spirit. I was struck with the affectionate 
mention of his name by all of his servants with whom 
I conversed. 

The great apartments are on the east front, and 
look out upon the gardens. They consist of a state 
bedchamber, with suites of dressing-rooms ; dining 
and billiard rooms ; a music saloon ; two drawing- 
rooms, and a library. They contain paintings of 
great value by the old masters, and portraits of the 
most distinguished of the Grosvenor family, from 
Hugh Lupus to the marquis and his lady. There are 
several fine scripture pieces in the drawing-room, 
by West. 

One of the drawing-rooms is in blue and silver, 
and the other in crimson and gold. The state bed- 
stead is a rich piece of work of carved oak, with 
hangings of blue and silver, and is an exact model 
of the portico of which I have spoken. From the 
ceiling of each room hangs a superb crystal chan- 
delier, and immense pier-glasses reflect from either 
side the splendour of the whole. 

The library and Chapel, however, interested me 
more than all the rest. The former is the mosl 



rilE LIBRARY. 253 

beautiful room I ever saw. Here you find every- 
thing that curiosity and literary taste can desire. If 
I were condemned to remain for ten years in a sin- 
gle apartment, and were permitted to choose that 
apartment myself, I would select this. Everything 
is chaste and classic. The south windows command 
a view of some of the richest landscapes of England, 
from the woody parks and gardens around, to the 
Welch mountains in the distance ; and from the east 
front a sweet prospect opens, with a broad terrace 
gently descending to the Dee. I will not attempt to 
describe the gardens ; they are too much like the 
magical visions that come to us in dreams. 

As we left this scene of enchantment, it seemed to 
us strange that its noble possessor could exchange the 
quiet shades, the cool fountains, and balmy breezes 
of Eaton Hall, for the h-eated air, the dissipated 
scenes, and the eternal din of London. 



BNP OF VOL. I. 




iK"(l>Vli!AWlJ)"S fejLili)MT AMB SllL&MllSo 






EmmiLAmm 



po 



iff TWO volumes; 




j.'/^-^.'^,^^'r/4v'r/'Aap4/y^/' /(JH'fArr. 



GLORY AND THE SHAME 



ENGLAND. 



"In England, those who till the earth, and make it lovelj' and fruitftil by 
their labours, are only allowed the slave's share of the many blessings they 
jproduce." 



BY C. EDWARDS LESTER. 



IN TWO VOLUME! 



VOL. II. 



NEW-YORK: 

HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 

1850. 



Entered, according to Act of Cfongress, in the year 1841, by 

JIarper 6! Brothers* 
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-Yor!i. 



THE GLORY AND THE SHAME 



ENGLAND. 



To Washington Irving, Esq. 

London, July — , 1840, 

Sm, 
Understanding that you have often express- 
ed your admiration for the genius and charac- 
ter of Charles Dickens, I have thought that 
some account of this celebrated author might 
not be uninteresting to you. I have had the 
pleasure of visiting Mr. Dickens at his house, 
and I trust that this letter will not be consider- 
ed an ill return for his kindness to one whose 
only claim upon him was an introduction from 
Thomas Campbell. I believe there is no Eng- 
lish author now living who is so much admired 
and read by our countrymen as Mr. Dickens, 
and, consequently, no one respecting whom 
Americans may be supposed to have so great 
a desire for information. I will therefore give 
a brief sketch of some of his conversations with 
me, and speak of his character and history, so 



4 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

far as I may be permitted to do so, with proper 
regard to his private feelings. If he should 
ever write his autobiography, giving a full pic- 
ture of his early history, it would probably be 
one of the most interesting books in any lan- 
guage. The last injunction I received from 
several of my friends when I parted with them 
in America, was to tell them in my letters 
something about " Boz." 

There were many persons in our country 
who could not be prevailed upon to read his 
works for a long time after the publication of 
the Pickwick Papers. So many vulgar repre- 
sentations of Sam Weller had appeared on the 
theatre bills at every corner of the street, that 
the name of " Boz" became associated with all 
that was offensive in the burlesque and low 
farce of the American stage. 

In this feeling I once participated. But a year 
ago a friend brought Oliver Twist to my room, 
to help while away a night of illness. He had 
not read many pages before my prejudices 
against the author all gave way ; and, after my 
recovery, I was glad to read that charming 
book hy myself^ where I could enjoy the full 
pleasure of those feelings which the kind-heart- 
ed writer so well knows how to excite. On 
closing the work, I felt an interest in the 
"Work-house Hero" which no fictitious char- 



VISIT TO MR. DICKENS. 5 

acter ever awakened in my heart. Immedi- 
ately I collected all the writings of Dickens, 
and read them with a new and strange delight. 
There was no gloom which his wit and humour 
could not drive away ; no hilarity which I was 
not glad to exchange for the scenes of sufier- 
ing, sadness, and triumph, in the histories of the 
generous but unfortunate Oliver ; the proud- 
spirited, kind-hearted Nicholas; the confiding 
Madaline ; the beautiful Kate ; and, above all, 
sweet liltle Nelly, that child of heaven. I 
promised myself a higher gratification in see- 
ing the author of these works than from inter- 
course with any other man. 

I was expressing to Campbell, whom I met 
last evening at Dr. Beattie's, my admiration 
for Dickens. He inquired if I had ever seen 
him. I answered I had not, and that I should 
consider it a misfortune to leave England 
without seeing him. Immediately Campbell 
left the room, and, returning in a few mo- 
ments, took my hand and said, " I am glad 
you like Mr. Dickens. Here is a letter of in- 
troduction to him. I want you to read it, and 
then I will seal it, for I consider it a mark of 
ill-breeding to present an unsealed letter ; and 
the one to be introduced may perhaps feel 
some desire to glance over it : this he should 
be permitted to do, and then it should be seal- 
A2 



6 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ed." Campbell persisted, and I read it. It 
was warm-hearted and generous, like every- 
thing that comes from Thomas Campbell. I 
gave back the letter with many thanks. " Oh! 
don't thank me, sir : of what use would it be 
to live in this world, if we could not gratify 
our feelings by once in a while, at least, doing 
some good to others ?" 

This morning I called on Mr. Dickens. 1 
felt the same reverence for the historian of little 
Nelly when I entered his library, that I should 
for the author of Waverley at his grave. Yea, 
more : for there is more Christian philanthropy 
in his heart than ever dwelt in Sir Walter's ; and 
would to God there were no worse men than 
was Sir Walter. I thought I would withhold 
Campbell's letter until after my reception. I 
felt assured that the heart of Charles Dickens 
had not been so chilled by the cold spirit that 
reigns in the higher circles of English society 
as to prevent him from receiving me with gen- 
uine kindness. I sent in my card, after wri- 
ting on it with a pencil, " An American would 
be greatly obliged if he could see Mr. Dick- 
ens." In a moment or two the servant re- 
turned and showed me to the library. The 
author was sitting in a large arm-chair by his 
table, with a sheet of " Master Humphrey's 
Clock" before him. He came forward and 



VISIT TO MR. DICKENS. 



gave me his hand familiarly, and offered me a 
chair. I told him I was an American, and ho- 
ped he would pardon me for calling without an 
invitation, and, if he was not particularly en- 
gaged, I should be much gratified with a short 
interview. He begged me to make no apolo- 
gies ; he was always glad to see Americans ; 
they had extended such a generous hand to the 
oppressed of England, that they ought to feel 
no delicacy in introducing themselves to Eng- 
lishmen. I at once felt at home, and remarked 
that I trusted I was prompted by a better mo- 
tive than mere curiosity in coming to see him. 
I wished to see the man who had so faithfully 
delineated the human heart, and shown so much 
sympathy for the poor and the suffering : it 
was the philanthropist even more than the au- 
thor I was anxious to see. He replied, nothing 
could be more gratifying to him than to receive 
demonstrations of regard from American read- 
ers. " American praise," said he, " is the best 
praise in the world, for it is sincere. Very few 
reviews are written in this country except un- 
der the influence of some personal feeling. Do 
not understand me to complain of the treat- 
ment I have received from the reviewers : they 
have awarded me more praise than I deserve." 
I expressed a desire to know something of the 
history of his authorship, at the same time say- 



8 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ing that, of course, I did not expect him to com- 
municate to a stranger anything he would not 
freely make known to the world. " Oh, sir," he 
replied, " ask as many questions as you please : 
as an American, it is one of your inalienable 
rights to ask questions ; and this, I fancy, is 
the reason why the Yankees are so intelligent." 

I inquired if, in portraying his characters, he 
had not, in every instance, his eye upon some 
particular person he had known, since I could 
not conceive it possible for an author to present 
such graphic and natural pictures except from 
real life. " Allow me to ask, sir," I said, " if 
the one-eyed Squeers, coarse but good John 
Browdie, the beautiful Sally Brass, clever Dick 
Swiveller, the demoniac and intriguing Quilp, 
the good Cheerbly Brothers, the avaricious Fa- 
gin, and dear little Nelly, are mere fancies ?" 

^' No, sir, they are not," he replied; "they 
are copies. You will not understand me to 
say, of course, that they are true histories in all 
respects, but they are real likenesses ; nor have 
I in any of my works attempted anything more 
than to arrange my story as well as I could, 
and give a true picture of scenes I have wit- 
nessed. My past history and pursuits have led 
me to a familiar acquaintance with numerous 
instances of extreme wretchedness and of deep- 
laid villany. In the haunts of squalid poverty 



CONVERSATIONS WITH DICKENS. 9 

I have found many a broken heart too good for 
this world. Many such persons, now in the 
most abject condition, have seen better days. 
Once they moved in circles of friendship and 
affluence, from which they have been hurled 
by misfortune to the lowest depths of want and 
sorrow. This class of persons is very large. 

" Then there are thousands in our parish 
workhouses and in the lanes of London, born 
into the world without a friend except God and 
a dying mother.' Many, too, who in circum- 
stances of trial have yielded to impulses of pas- 
sion, and by one fatal step fallen beyond re- 
covery. London is crowded, and, indeed, so 
is all England, with the poor, the unfortunate, 
and the guilty. This description of persons 
has been generally overlooked by authors. 
They have had none to care for them, and have 
fled from the public gaze to some dark habita- 
tion of this great city, to curse the cold chari- 
ties of a selfish world, and die. There are 
more broken hearts in London than in any 
other place in the world. The amount of 
crime, starvation, nakedness, and misery of 
every sort in the metropolis surpasses all cal- 
culation. I thought I could render some ser- 
vice to humanity by bringing these scenes be- 
fore the minds of those who, from never having 
witnessed them, suppose they cannot exist. In 



10 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

this effort I have not been wholly unsuccessful ; 
and there is nothing makes me happier than to 
think that, by some of my representations, I 
have increased the stock of human cheerful- 
ness, and, by others, the stock of human sympa- 
thy. I think it makes the heart better to seek 
out the suffering and relieve them. I have 
spent many days and nights in the most wretch- 
ed districts of the metropolis, studying the his- 
tory of the human heart. There we must go to 
find it. In high circles we see everything but 
the heart, and learn everything but the real char- 
acter. We must go to the hovels of the poor 
and the unfortunate, where trial brings out the 
character. I have in these rambles seen many 
exhibitions of generous affection and heroic en- 
durance, which would do honour to any sphere. 
Often have I discovered minds that only want- 
ed a little of the sunshine of prosperity to de- 
velop the choicest endowments of Heaven. I 
think I never return to my home after these 
adventures without being made a sadder and a 
better man. In describing these characters I 
aim no higher than to feel in writing as they 
seemed to feel themselves. I am persuaded 
that I have succeeded just in proportion as I 
have cultivated a familiarity with the trials and 
sorrows of the poor, and told their story as 
they would have related it themselves." 



CONVERSATIONS WITH DICKENS. 11 

I spoke of the immense popularity of his 
works, and remarked that I believed he had 
ten readers in America where he had one in 
England. 

" Why, sir, the popularity of my works has 
surprised me. For some reason or other, I 
believe they are somewhat extensively read ; 
nor is it the least gratifying circumstance to 
me, that they have been so favourably received 
in your country. I am trying to enjoy my 
fame while it lasts, for I believe I am not so 
vain as to suppose that my books will be read 
by any but the men of my own times." 

I remarked that he might consider himself 
alone in that opinion, and it would probably be 
no easy matter to make the world coincide with 
him. He answered, with a smile, " I shall 
probably not make any very serious efforts to 
doit!" 

It happened, as, indeed, it always has in my 
conversations with literary men I have met in 
England, that your name was mentioned. It 
is scarcely necessary to say that Mr. Dickens 
is no less an admirer of your writings than we 
are ourselves. Nor is it unpleasant to your 
countrymen abroad to hear the same opinions 
expressed by foreigners of your works, that we 
have so long cherished. No man has done so 
much to win from the European world respect 



12 GLORY AND SHAMS OF ENGLAND. 

for our literature as yourself; and for it you de- 
serve our gratitude. It is in the memory of 
many that, before the Sketch Book was written, 
American literature was treated with utter con- 
tempt by Englishmen. 

True, it is still matter of great surprise to 
English ladies and bishops to learn that we 
speak English, and even write " SketchBooks," 
" Thanatopses," " Odes on Marco Botzaris," 
live in framed houses, and manifest other symp- 
toms of civilization. Said Lady , who is 

sister to a celebrated noble authoress in Lon- 
don, " Pray tell me if you have not such a 
man in America as Irving Washington, who 
has written a book ? they call it a Book of 
Sketches, I think : he must be a son of the 
general of that name. Or was it George 
Washington ? Pray tell me something about 
these men : I suppose you must be acquainted 
with them." I had the impudence to laugh 
her ladyship in the face before I told her some- 
thing about " these men," and then read her a 
chapter upon American history, and another 
upon American authors. 

Mr. Dickens spoke on every matter about 
which we conversed with a freedom and kind- 
ness that showed he spoke from the heart. The 
windows of his library look out upon a garden. 
I saw several rosy-cheeked children playing by 



DESCRIPTION OF HIS PERSON. 13 

a water fountain ; and, as the little creatures 
cast occasional glances up to us while we were 
watching their sports from the window, I thought 
I saw in their large, clear, blue eyes, golden hair, 
and bewitching smile, the image of Charles 
Dickens. They were, in fact, young Bozzes ! i 
I was greatly surprised, for I had never heard 
that there was such a lady as Mrs. Dickens. 

I think Dickens incomparably the finest-look- 
ing man I ever saw. The portrait of him 
in the Philadelphia edition of his works is a 
good one ; but no picture can do justice to his 
expression when he is engaged in an interest- 
ing conversation. There is something about 
his eyes at such times which cannot be copied. 
In person he is perhaps a little above the stand- 
ard height ; but his bearing is noble, and he 
appears taller than he really is. His figure is 
very graceful, neither too slight nor too stout. 
The face is handsome. His complexion is 
delicate — rather pale generally ; but when his 
feelings are kindled his countenance is over- 
spread with a rich glow. I presume he is 
somewhat vain of his hair, and he can be par- 
doned for it too. It reminded me of words in 
Sidney's Arcadia: "His fair auburn hair, which 
he wore in great length, gave him at that time 
a most delightful show." His forehead, a 
phrenologist would say (especially if he knew 

Vol. II.— B 



14 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

his character beforehand), indicates a clear 
and beautiful intellect, in which the organs of 
perception, mirthfulness, ideality, and compar- 
ison, predominate. I should think his nose 
had once been almost determined to be Roman, 
but hesitated just long enough to settle into 
the classic Grecian outline. 

But the charm of his person is in his full, 
soft, beaming eyes, which catch an expression 
from every passing object ; and you can al- 
ways see wit, half sleeping in ambush around 
them, when it is not shooting its wonted fires. 
Dickens has almost made us feel that 

" Wit is the pupil of the soul's clear eye, 
And in man's world, the only shining star." 

And yet I think his conversation, except in 
perfect abandon among his friends, presents 
but few striking exhibitions of wit. Still there 
is a rich vein of humour and good feeling in all 
he yays. 

I passed two hours at his house, and when I 
left was more impressed than ever with the 
goodness of his heart. I should mention that 
during my visit I handed him Campbell's let- 
ter : it produced not the slightest change in his 
manner. I expressed, on leaving, the hope 
that little Nelly (in whose fate I confessed I 
felt a deeper interest than in that of most real 
characters) might, after all h^r wanderings, find 



CHARACTER OF HIS WORKS. 15 

a quiet and happy home. "The same hope," 
he replied, " has been expressed to me by oth- 
ers ; and I hardly know what to do. But if 
you ever hear of her death in a future number 
of the Clock, you shall say that she died as she 
lived." 

Mr. Dickens is certainly one of the most 
lovely men I ever saw ; and I wish that they 
who have formed the mistaken idea that his 
works are destitute of high moral sentiment, 
and written merely to amuse the vulgar, would 
only look into Oliver Twist or Nicholas Nick- 
leby. I wish, too, that they who refuse to read 
his works because they are fictitious (for a nov- 
el is not necessarily a vicious book — sometimes 
they are the best books — Pilgrim's Progress, 
Paradise Lost, and the Vicar of Wakefield 
could be but poorly spared), had as much of 
the milk of human kindness in their hearts as 
he. 

I believe there is no author doing so much 
for humanity in the British empire. Nor am I 
alone in this opinion. I have met with a short 
notice of Nicholas Nickleby, which is attribu- 
ted to Sidney Smith, the well-known advocate 
of the repeal of the corn laAvs. If the re- 
viewer has formed a just estimate of Mr. Dick- 
ens, the author of Nicholas Nickleby is to be 
ranked among the greatest benefactors of the 



16 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

race. The article is written Avith consummate 
ability, and I am anxious it should circulate as 
widely as possible. It is farther valuable, as it 
throws much light upon the present condition 
of England. It depicts in a graphic manner 
he wretchedness and suffering of the poor, and 
boldly charges their miseries upon the oppress- 
ive laws which have been framed to support a 
proud and overbearing aristocracy. 

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 

It may appear somewhat strange that we 
should introduce to our readers a subject which 
appears, at first sight, to have about as much to 
do with the corn laws as Alexander the Great 
with Alexander the Coppersmith. Yet we do 
not know any man who has done more for the 
poetry and the picturesque of the bread tax 
than Mr. Dickens. For wit, perception of 
character, graphic delineation of those ephem- 
eral human phenomena which elude the grasp 
of a less delicate perception, he has hardly any 
rival. Above all, the sort of photogenic quali- 
ty of his mind, by which every shade and hue 
of the most neglected and insignificant por- 
tions of the moral landscape are made as in- 
stinct with interest, truth, and life as the most 
important and striking, is a feature of it which 
we do not remember ever to have seen ap- 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 17 

preached by other writers. " It is his nature's 
plague to spy into abuses." He reminds us of 
cinder gatherers, who find something by which 
they can profit in the rubbish that society casts 
away. He catches up the dross, and makes it 
shine like pure gold. Nay, he is a sort of 
moral alchymist, that can convert the worthless 
into the precious, and show the uses and the 
significancy of everything that lives, and moves, 
and has a being. He " gathers up the frag- 
ments" of our nature, that "nothing may be 
lost." With miraculous touch he can feed, out 
of the most lenten entertainment, the perishing 
multitude, and convert water into wine. Like 
Goldsmith, there is nothing which he does not 
touch, and nothing he touches which he does 
not adorn. 

But " more than that, than this, than these, 
than all," we like him for this, that his big 
heart is in the right place ; that he is a man of 
large humanities ; that his moral sympathies 
are catholic, and his affections universal. He 
is, as it were, a watchman for heaven. Not a 
sparrow falleth to the ground but he registers 
it in his great history of life. His genius, his 
wit, his graphic power, and the interest which 
he gives to all that he sketches, these give him 
ready access to every circle of society, and 
make his writings relished equally by the peer 
B2 



18 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and the peasant ; the little milliner in her back 
parlour, and the great duchess in her boudoir. 
Scenes that the great cannot even imagine, he 
carries straight into their drawing-room. Pha- 
ses of human life, which the rich and powerful 
either never have an opportunity of observing, 
or carefully avoid all chance of bringing within 
the sphere of their observation, he presents to 
them in their most striking aspects, w^ithout of- 
fending their delicacy by the hideous accesso- 
ries of their actual condition. While he causes 
the most abject and loathsome carcases to come 
between the wind and their nobility, they are 
made picturesque and interesting rather than 
horrible, and stand before the mind rather to 
teach it a wholesome lesson, and to make pomp 
take physic, than to disgust without instructing, 
or wound without amending. 

It is a mighty privilege this of genius to 
make itself heard equally in the kitchen and 
the hall ; to enter in at the strait gate of super- 
cilious rank, or proud and fastidious fashion, 
and yet to be a welcome passenger in the 
broad thoroughfare of the vulgar, common- 
place, w^or king-day world. It is, as it were, 
to be the conductor that connects the positive 
and negative poles of society ; to be the am- 
bassador from poverty to pride, or the media- 
tor between the abjectness of hopeless penury 



NICHOLAS JNIGKLEBV. 19 

and the superbial magnificence of affluent aris- 
tocracy. This, we say, is a mighty privilege, 
and this great writer has used it well and wise- 
ly. He hath a noble and a Christian heart. 
He looks upon a human being, simply as such, 
as something inexpressibly great, and upon an 
immortal creature as of infinite value and sig- 
nificancy. He feels that a man is more pre- 
cious than many sparrows, and that blurred, 
and marred, and vitiated though the likeness 
be, yet there stands the image of his heavenly 
Father. In his kind and manly breast every 
fellow-creature finds a willing advocate ; the 
wailing of the desolate catches his ever-listen- 
mg ear, and the despairing look of the familiar 
child of wretchedness meets his mild, keen 
glance, although there should be none other to 
register its sullen grief. 

He makes the cries of the poor to be heard 
in the palace, and gets the miserable an en- 
trance into the great man's house. The poor 
orphan, that finds what it is to be in a solitary 
desert in the thick-peopled city ; that, sur- 
rounded by a million of professing Christians, 
is yet alone, and without hope in the world ; 
that tells his dreadful story with patient sad- 
ness, but gets no one, in that dense, bustling, 
busy, money-getting crowd, to hear him for his 
cause ; why he, of all that populous cavalcade, 



20 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

arrests one passing stranger, and he, pen in 
hand, proclaims his brother's wrongs through 
the wide extent of broad Britain. 

And that same cunning penman, how strange 
his taste ! He finds a forlorn infant so desper- 
ate in fortune that even its miserable mother 
has left it on the steps to do or die ; and of all 
the cases for the genteel humane, the drawing- 
room Christianity, the silk-stockings-and-pumps 
philanthropy of the times, it so turns out that 
he will have none other, but only this. He 
walks straight into the workhouse, and Avhen 
other men see only some parish brats that are 
to be abused, and poisoned, and sickened with 
insult and bad usage into early death, why 
there he sees the soft, innocent, ingenuous, 
grief-shaded countenance of thoughtful boy- 
hood, and his sound heart yearns the more to 
him that he has neither father nor mother, nay, 
none other to take his part in all this selfish, 
money-getting, civil-barbarous age and nation, 
save this one great and glorious oak that flings 
out its fantastic branches to temper the wind 
to the shorn lamb. And when none other can 
plead for forsaken humanity, he, with the au- 
thority of omnipotent genius, knocks at the 
portals of greatness with a firmness that will 
not be said nay, and tells, with an eloquence 
that cannot be' denied, " the spurns that patient 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 21 

merit of the unworthy takes." God bless that 
good man ! the God who stilleth the cry of the 
young raven, and who visiteth, in their afflic- 
tion, the fatherless and the widow. 

Listen to him ; hear his words of truth and 
soberness ; learn of one who hath been taught 
by him who was meek and lowly of heart. 
" Now, when he thought how regularly things 
went on from day to day in the same unvarying 
round ; how youth and beauty died, and ugly, 
griping age lived tottering on ; how crafty av- 
arice grew rich, and manly, honest hearts were 
poor and sad ; how few they were who ten- 
anted the stately houses, and how many those 
who lay in noisome pens, or rose each day and 
laid them down at night, and lived and died, 
father and son, mother and child, race upon 
race, and generation upon generation, without 
a home to shelter them or the energies of one 
single man directed to their aid ; how, in seek- 
ing, not a luxurious and splendid life, but the 
bare means of a most wretched and inadequate 
subsistence, there were women and children 
in that one town, divided into classes, num- 
bered and estimated as regularly as the noble 
families and folks of great degree, and reared 
from infancy to drive most criminal and dread- 
ful trades; how ignorance was punished and 
never taught; how jail doors gaped and gal- 



22 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

lows loomed for thousands urged towards them 
by circumstances darkly curtaining their very 
cradles' heads, and but for which they might 
have earned their honest bread, and lived in 
peace ; how many died in soul, and had no 
chance of life ; how many, who could scarcely 
go astray, be they vicious as they would, turn- 
ed haughtily from the crushed and stricken 
wretch who could scarce do otherwise, and 
who would have been a greater wonder had 
he or she done well, than even they had they 
done ill ; how much injustice, and misery, and 
wrong there was, and yet how the world rolled 
on from year to year, alike careless and indif- 
ferent, and no man seeking to remedy or re- 
dress it ; when he thought of all this, ^ad se- 
lected from the mass the one slight cause on 
which his thoughts were bent, he felt indeed that 
there was little ground for hope, and little cause 
or reason why it should not form an atom in 
the huge aggregate of distress and sorrow, and 
add one small and unimportant unit to swell 
the great amount. 

' Take physic, pomp ! 
Expose thyself io feel what wretches feel, 
That thou mayst throw the superflux to them, 
And show the heav'ns more jtvst !' " 

Can the great ones of the earth calmly read 
b«t this one passage out of the thousand stir- 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 23 

ring appeals which everywhere meet them m 
these extraordinary volumes on behalf of the 
little ones of this weary world, without some 
misgivings that all is not right ? Is there not 
something in their feeble but plaintive cry, as 
here supported with the word of power ; is 
there not, we say, something in it (like the 
pressure of an infant's little hand round the 
finger of the strong man), that sometimes spoils 
a fine dinner to those whose hearts are not just 
yet a piece of shrivelled parchment ? Think, 
peer, for a brief moment ; we say, think. As 
you read such a picture as this, do the springs 
of your carriage not feel more uneasy under 
you as you call to mind that it is built upon the 
morsel of the beggar ? Are there no compunc- 
tious visitings of nature that " steal on you ere 
you are aware," when you feel that the little 
shivering, street-abandoned wretch that gets 
his loaf by selling small ware, is robbed of the 
half of it to put diamonds in your shoe-buckles ? 
Is it possible that you can see that skeleton, 
with the keen, sharpened, abject features of 
starvation, with two naked children and the 
famishing antic at her breast, whose unnatural, 
hideous caricature of humanity hardly admits 
it a place in the classification of the infancy of 
man, cowering at the foot of some deserted 
lane to eat their first meal for two days ; can 



24 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

it be that you can see this, and forget that even 
such beings as these pay to you, by a law made 
hy yourself /or yourself, the half of every penny 
that they beg from some kind being but a little 
way less poor than themselves ? 

See that beautiful young duchess, so encom- 
passed with the odour of refined aristocracy 
that, as she passes us like the flitting of a cloud, 
the very sense aches at her ; she seems to dis- 
dain the very ground she walks upon, and, like 
the sensitive plant, to shudder and contract into 
herself at the very contiguity of the poor ; al- 
though, mayhap, she has sometimes heard, in 
ner crimson velvet pew, that, eighteen hundred 
years ago, some one declared them to be her 
brethren and sisters. She will fly the very 
sight of these horrid wretches, and swear " a 
pretty oath by yea and nay," because her coach- 
man did not drive the other way, that her eyes 
might not be offended by the very look of these 
terrible creatures. 

A word in your ear, madam ; ay, in your 
ivory-turned ear, where hang those diamond 
drops. Why, these sparkling pendants were 
bought with money robbed from those same beg- 
gars. That glittering necklace, " which Jews 
might kiss and infidels adore,-" believe it or 
not, is wrung from the hard hands of starving 
peasants, and every ring on those taper fingers 



NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 26 

has famished a family of your fellow-creatures. 
Woman I bright, beautiful, and gentle ! in all 
whose steps is grace, and in every gesture dig- 
nity and love ! Woman ! pure as beautiful ; 
kind as dignified ; virtuous and noble, Avith 
fair religion " emparadised in form of that 
sweet flesh," is it possible you do not know, 
and yet are we sure you do not, that every 
birthday dress has driven a sister to the streets, 
and that there is not a ball at Almack's which 
is given at a less cost than alone fills the broth- 
el ? " List, ye landsmen, all to me !" There 
are three half-naked urchins thrust out of their 
mother'' s house to steal for bread! that is your 
doing. There are ten thousand patients in the 
metropolis perishing of typhus, actually more 
fatal than the plague ; every hospital is full, 
and private houses are turned into fever-wards 
to meet the exigencies of the case. The fever 
is the fruit oi famine, and that famine is your 
doing. 

There is an infant in a sweet sleep lying in 
a basket at the work-house door ; the night is 
cold, and it hath sucked at its kind mother's 
breast until the want of food for two days hath 
brought her milk to its last thin drop. Merci- 
ful God I that hath taught us to address thee 
as our kind parent, and is it indeed possible 

Vol. II.— C 



26 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

that the yearnings of a mother's heart can be 
stifled, and that she should no longer 

" Know what 'tis to love the babe that milks her V 

Yet there is no other way, for bread is high, 
and wages thereby small, and a family of dear 
little ones, that should be a blessing, if ever a 
blessing were, is a curse ; for they have mouths, 
and their mouths are filled with sad cries be- 
cause they cannot be filled with food. Will 
the landowners not " mark, learn, and inward- 
ly digest ?" Let them reflect in time, " ere the 
night cometh." Let them give with grace and 
good will what may at last be wrung from 
them with nothing of either. The people, like 
the sibyl, will come upon them every hour 
with harder terms, demanding more and offer- 
ing less in exchange, until that mighty vox 
populi, which, when combined in majestic har- 
mony, is truly vox Dei, will ascend to heaven 
and meet its response, return to earth, and teach 
the proud, when too late, that the " glory of 
his great house is departed." 

I have the honour to be, dear sir, 
Your humble servant, 

C. Edwards Lester. 



LETTER TO THE HON. J. C. CALHOUN. 27 



To the Hon. John C. Calhoun. 
Sir, 

Well knowing that you never fail to be in- 
terested in anything that relates to the pros- 
perity of the American people, I have thought 
you would pardon me for addressing you a let- 
ter on the probable influence of the commerce 
of British India upon the staple productions of 
the South. I know this is a question which 
more directly concerns the Southern States 
than the rest of the Union, but I trust I feel as 
deep an interest in that portion of the country 
as in any other. I desire to see the great 
states of the South, under a wise and humane 
policy, develop their mighty resources, and be- 
come, as they may, one of the fairest, most de- 
sirable, and opulent portions of the confedera- 
cy. So long as our Union continues, and may 
Heaven preserve it through all coming time, 
we cannot separate the interests of one part of 
it from those of another. While it subsists, no 
blow can fall upon an individual member of it 
without being felt by the whole body. 

Perhaps there is no question now before the 
British people in which our country is so deep- 
ly concerned as the commerce and agricultiure 
of the East Indies ; none which will so direct- 



28 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND, 

ly, powerfully, and permanently affect the whole 
of our Southern and Southwestern States. My 
attention has been turned to this subject for a 
considerable time with deep interest ; and al- 
though I cannot admit the truth of all the state- 
ments which have been made, or feel the force 
of all the conclusions which have been adopted 
in regard to the India question, yet I am fully 
persuaded there is much in this matter worthy 
the candid and careful investigation of the 
Southern States ; much which our statesmen 
had better look to, when they can find leisure 
from the paramount duties of party squabbles 
and cabinet cabals. There is something in 
this East India business which, in my humble 
opinion, is of more consequence to the Repub- 
lic than even the question whether or not it is 
in order for an honourable member to read Mr. 
Botts's letter to the keeper of a coffee-house, or 
whether President Tyler will in the end turn 
out a " Locofoco" or a " Federalist." 

While I was in England I collected many 
facts in relation to this subject, and since my 
return I have been no careless observer of 
what has subsequently transpired. I feel de- 
sirous, therefore, to lay before my countrymen 
a few brief statements which seem to be of im- 
mediate concern to them. 

I do not address you this letter, sir, because 



EXPORTS OF COTTON. 29 

I suppose I can say anything on this subject 
which has not already been discovered by so 
keen-sighted and sagacious a statesman as 
yourself, particularly as it is so intimately con- 
nected with the prosperity of the South ; but I 
do it because you represent one of the most op- 
ulent and respectable of the Southern States. 
And you may be assured, sir, that in what I 
say I am influenced only by a desire to render 
some service to my country, and that not the 
slightest hostility or prejudice against the South 
mingles with my feelings. 

It is well known that, since the invention of 
the cotton-gin, the increase in the growth of 
cotton has been rapid beyond all precedent, 
and that it now forms by far the most impor- 
tant article of our exports. For this England 
is our largest customer ; the total amount of 
her imports of cotton from the United States 
being annually not less than 300,000,000 lbs. 
If there be a prospect, then, that the British 
market will be in a great measure closed 
against this important staple, is it not well for 
us to consider what must be the result? 

For distinctness, I will arrange Avhat I have 
to say under separate heads. I think any man 
who has paid the least attention to this matter 
will perceive, 1. That British India is amply ca- 
pable of producing almost any quantity of the 
C 2 



90 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

very commodities which form the principal ar- 
ticles of export from the states of the South ; 
and that these commodities can be procured 
from thence, not only at a less price than is 
now paid for our productions, but so low that 
we cannot, at the cost of slave-labour, com- 
pete with them. 

British India comprises a tract of country 
nearly as large as the whole United States, 
with 150,000,000 of people, and can easily be 
made to supply the entire demand of Great 
Britain for cotton, rice, and tobacco ; and, at 
the same time, more adequately provide for 
her own population.* The evidence I adduce 
below will convince every reader that I speak 
advisedly. This evidence has been subjected 
to the closest scrutiny, and I am not aware of 
any interest or prejudice to sway my judg- 
ment. 

In his History of the British Colonies (a 

* When this letter "was written, which was several months ago, 
I made some use of an article which appeared in a London journal 
last spring. In course of reviewing my letter for the press, I met 
with a paper in the September number of Hunt's valuable Commer- 
cial Magazine, which was so much like the London article that 
I had the curiosity to inquire of Mr. Hunt if they were both written 
by the same author. I understood him that they were. The article is 
written with candour ; but the author should have taken the precau- 
tion to state that something very like it had already appeared m 
London. He would in this way have saved himself from the impu- 
tation of being indebted more than he seemed to be to the produc- 
tion of another. 



PRODUCTIVENESS OF INDIA. 31 

most valuable work), Montgomery Martin says, 
" The British possessions in India are rich to 
overflowing with every product of vegetable life 
which an all-wise and ever-beneficent Provi- 
dence could bestow to gratify the sight and 
contribute to the happiness of his creatures." 
Professor Royle, of King's College, says, " In 
the peninsula of India, and in the neighbouring 
Island of Ceylon, we have a climate capable 
of producing cinnamon, cassia, pepper, &c. 
The coffee grown on the Malabar coast is of so 
superior a quality as to be taken to Arabia and 
re-exported as Mocha coffee. The Tinnevelly 
senna brings the highest price in the London 
market. The common potato has been intro- 
duced into almost every part of India with 
great success and benefit to the people. The 
continent everywhere produces indigo, cotton^ 
tobacco, sugar, and opium. The first, hardly of 
any note as an Indian product 30 years ago, is 
now imported in the largest quantities into 
England: the cotton is indig'enous to India; 
many provinces seem peculiarly adapted to its 
culture. The tobacco brought home by Dr. 
Wallach was pronounced by competent judg- 
es to be equal to the best from America. The 
quantity grown in India is enormous : very rich 
lands produce about 160 lbs. per acre of green 
leaf." " If," says a distinguished English wri- 



S2 GLORV AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

ter, " we do thorough justice to India, we can 
draw from these vast and favoured regions, as 
the products of free cultivation — with the bless- 
ing and full requital of the Indian labourer — 
more than twice the consumption of all the 
sugar we import^ and more than all the cotton 
sent to us from the slave states of North Ameri- 
ca.^^ " The valley of the Ganges," says Sec- 
retary Trevellyan, " is a tract of alluvial coun- 
try of extraordinary fertility, about 1000 miles 
long, and from 150 to 300 miles broad, and is 
capable of producing sufficient sugar for the 
consumption of the whole world. This valley 
is densely populated, and might be given up 
entirely to the growth of cotton, sugar, tobacco, 
and other valuable productions, getting its grain 
and provision from neighbouring provinces." 

It appears from parliamentary reports I have 
examined, that the importation of sugar from 
India has trebled in the last nine years. " I 
have no doubt," says the estimable Zachary 
Macaulay, " that sugar could be produced in 
India proftablp at a penny a pound. ^^ Towards 
the end of the first quarter of 1841 the increas- 
ed quantity of India sugar in the London mar- 
ket brought the price down $2 50 the cwt.* 

* I have recently received a letter from a gentleman in LopHon, in 
vrhich he states that there will probably be two million cwts. oi vofsu 
imported this year from India. 



COTTON IN INDIA. 33 

But, as the chief dependance of the Southern 
States is upon cotton, it is a question of more 
interest for us to inquire what effect the compe- 
tition of the India planters will have upon this 
great production. This matter the South should 
look to. Says Montgomery Martin, already 
quoted, " Cotton everywhere abounds ; but suf- 
ficient care has not been bestowed, so as to 
render it, as in America, a triennial instead of 
an annual, or in the picking and cleaning it for 
export. The Decca cotton is unequalled, and 
the Sea Island cotton, from Saugur Island, near 
Calcutta, promises to be a valuable article for 
export. The East India government have 
made several attempts for the extensive intro- 
duction of the cotton-plant into Guzerat, near 
the Persian Gulf, which seems well adapted for 
its culture.^' Royle says " the best cotton is 
procured from the coast of Coromandel." Says 
a writer who has resided long in India, " The 
natural internal navigation is most extensive. 
There are vast tracts of land so near the Hoogh- 
ly, Ganges, and other large navigable rivers, 
that, without the delay of making roads, the 
produce can be brought to Calcutta at the mod- 
erate cost of transportation of from four to ten 
shillings a ton. The presidencies of Madras 
and Bombay likewise contain land capable of 
growing cotton to an illimitable extent.^' 



34 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" Rangoon," says the London writer already 
referred to, " at the mouth of the great River 
Irawaddy, ships large quantities of raw cotton 
of superior quality to Calcutta and other places, 
which is cleaned and wrought by hand into the 
finest muslins that are ever seen in Europe." 
This part of India, I am told by several gen- 
tlemen who have traversed it, is very similar 
in climate and situation to the delta of the 
Mississippi, and could supply an immense quan- 
tity of cotton of the best quality. A newspaper, 
published at Bombay in 1839, remarks, " "We 
have shown in a former number that, until 1830, 
we derived no agricultural produce whatever 
from the fertile plains of Berar (600 miles from 
the coast), and supplied that district with but a 
single article, salt, which, owing to the almost 
impassable state of the roads, was conveyed 
from this city on the backs of bullocks. In 
that year one of the native salt merchants tried 
the experiment of conveying back to Bombay, 
upon his returning bullocks, some of the cotton 
which abounds in that country ; the experiment 
was completely successful, and next year (1831) 
10,000 loads were received from that one dis- 
trict by the same rude conveyance. In 1836 
90,000 loads were received from the same 
province ; but the roads were so bad that it im- 
posed an additional cost of 80 per cent, upon 



COTTON IN INDIA. 35 

its original price. The resources of that dis- 
trict are so great that government have appro- 
priated £30,000 to construct a road." They 
have also resolved to make a road from Bom- 
bay to Agra, which lies in the very heart of the 
cotton districts. Other surveys have been or- 
dered, and it will not be a long time before the 
means of transportation by great roads will ex- 
ist wherever it cannot be carried on by water. 

Herodotus tells us that when he wrote his 
celebrated history (more than 2200 years ago) 
cotton was grown in India. It has been used 
for ages by the millions of that immense coun- 
try, and yet some of our most respectable jour- 
nals have attempted to prove that its cultivation 
in India "is yet a problem!^' Secretary Wood- 
bury informs us " that the production of cotton 
in India in 1791 was 150 million pounds, and 
in 1834, 185 millions." The secretary was as 
safe in making this statement as he would have 
been in saying that in some weeks more than 
100 barrels of flour are shipped from the Genesee 
Mills. It is well known that India consumes 
a much greater amount herself than the secre- 
tary supposes her to raise. She furnishes cot- 
ton for her own consumption, the entire supply 
of China, and a large surplus goes to England. 
In 1831 the imports of India cotton into Eng- 
land were 75,627 bales ; in 1835, 116,153 bales ; 



36 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and in 1840, 216,784 bales. Of rice, the imports 
in 1835 were 66,000 bags ; in 1839, 97,000 ; 
and in 1840, over 100,000 ! During the last 
nine years the importation of Brazilian cottons 
into England has fallen off more than 70,000 
bales ; and several instances have occurred, 
within the last eighteen months, in which the 
arrival of East India cotton has materially low- 
ered the price of the American article in Liv- 
erpool ; in one instance to the extent of no less 
than three cents on the pound ! It is a fact, too 
well known almost to be told again, that the 
Bengal indigo long since drove the Carolina 
article out of the market. 

2. India not only possesses great resources, 
but the power of the British empire is being 
combined to develop them ; and a great variety 
of most auspicious circumstances have conspi- 
red to produce this result. It has ever been 
peculiarly the policy of Great Britain to depend 
upon her own resources for the wants and 
the luxuries of life. For a long time she has 
grudgingly paid her millions every year for 
American cotton, and she is now determined 
to do it no longer. The government will af- 
ford all the facilities and encouragement possi- 
ble for the growth of cotton and of all the 
tropical products in her eastern possessions : 
her army and navy, legislation and credit, 



POLICY OF THE INDIA COMPANY. 37 

will all contribute their aid to this work. The 
East India Company, under their present char- 
ter, no longer enjoys that exclusive control of 
Indian commerce which has enriched its pro- 
prietors in past times ; and the sagacious and 
experienced men who control its affairs, after 
carefully investigating the whole subject, have 
come to the conclusion that they will turn their 
domains into cotton plantations, and divert 
into their own coffers the $30,000,000 that now 
flow annually into the pockets of the planters 
of the South. The Manchester Chamber of 
Commerce (an association of opulent manufac- 
turers whose power is almost unlimited) have 
joined warmly in the enterprise, and will ex- 
tend all the favour they can, without too great 
a sacrifice of interest, to the designs of the 
Company. The favour will be returned ; for it 
is understood that the Company will do all in 
their power to open a market for the Manches- 
ter fabrics among the 150 milhons of India. 

With the keen-sighted policy they have uni- 
formly displayed in the management of their 
affairs, the Company despatched Captain Bay- 
lis, an efficient and well-qualified commission- 
er, to the Southern States, in the spring of 
1840, to engage twelve American planters, 
who were perfectly acquainted with the cotton 
culture, to go out to India in the service of the 

Vol. II.— D 



38 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Company, for the purpose of carrying out their 
designs. In this he was successful, and re- 
turned to England with his agents, who carried 
with them several of the most improved cotton- 
gins (which had never been introduced into In- 
dia), and a large quantity of the best kinds of 
seed. The gins were set up in Liverpool 
while I was in that city ; and parcels of India 
cotton, which had been imported in the seed, 
were submitted to the working of these ma- 
chines. The result was, that while the Amer- 
ican gin could clean 1400 pounds a day to the 
great improvement of the raw material, the In- 
dian machine (churka), with three labourers to 
work it, could only turn off 40 pounds. Sev- 
eral commercial gentlemen assured me that the 
cotton was as fine as any specimens from 
America in market ; and yet it cost the im- 
porters less than half the price. It should.be 
remembered, too, that it had been grown un- 
der the agriculture of semi-barbarians ; per- 
naps been carried 600 miles on the backs of 
bullocks, and transported 12,000 miles, with the 
additional expense in freight, of being brought 
m the seed. As might be expected, this fact 
excited a deep interest among the manufac- 
turing capitalists of England, and private spec- 
ulators were soon on the alert. Prospects of 
making fortunes by the cultivation of cotton in 



INDIA COTTON FEVER. 39 

India induced several opulent men immediately 
to embark for that country ; and large bribes, 
I had occasion to know, were offered by a 
speculator to one of Captain Baylis's agents if 
he would enter into his employment ; which, 
of course, the American refused. 

The India mail, during the last summer, 
brought intelligence that this corps had reached 
their destination, and made a commencement 
upon 1000 acres of land in the fertile district 
of Tinnevelly, with every prospect of success. 
The account also stated that arrangements 
were being made by the Company's servants 
for extending their scale of operations as wide- 
ly as possible ; and that large tracts of land 
had been purchased by private individuals for 
the same purpose. " Indeed," says an English 
correspondent of mine, in a recent letter, " In- 
dia seems to be visited with a sort of cotton 
mania not unlike your midticaulis fever ^ 

In a late pamphlet, Thomas Clarkson says, 
" I have recently received intelligence from In- 
dia, that individuals are hiring large tracts of 
land of the East India Company, principally 
for the cultivation of cotton. One person has 
taken 60,000 acres at his own risk, and ex- 
pects to emploTj one hundred thousand people 
more than at present .'" Brother Jonathan, 
who is generally on the ground when the bell 



40 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

rings for dinner, hoping to find the cultivation 
of cotton " a pretty good sort of a business," 
has also taken up some " small patches'^ of a 
few thousand acres ; and a number of Ameri- 
cans, resident merchants in India, have thrown 
commerce aside for the more profitable busi- 
ness of planting cotton. The whole body of 
British abolitionists have entered cordially into 
the measure, believing that the success of the 
scheme will be the death-knell of American 
slavery. They have but one great object now 
before them — the abolition of slavery in India ; 
and they believe that the general cultivation of 
cotton in those countries will have a tendency 
to overthrow slavery in America, by rendering 
it impossible for slave labour (acknowledged to 
be more expensive) to compete with the free- 
grown products of the British empire. The 
English abolitionists feel that every shilling 
which goes out of Great Britain for cotton, or 
any other slave-grown product, goes into the 
pocket of the slaveholder, and thereby con- 
tributes to uphold the system. This feeling is 
becoming almost universal in England among 
men of all parties ; and all who take any par- 
ticular interest in the slavery question are la- 
bouring with a zeal they never manifested be- 
fore, in advancing the interests of cotton plant- 
ing in India ; and while I believe that many of 
them are influenced by higher motives, yet I do 



SLAVE-TRADE, 41 

not doubt that feelings of hostility against the 
interests of the South mingle with their efforts. 
Said William E. Gladstone, a notorious, 
boisterous, church - extension-anti-West-India- 
emancipation - liberty - hating - high - tory - dear- 
bread-loving declaimer, in a speech in Parlia- 
ment (30th of March, 1838), " If the facts were 
thoroughly investigated, it could be shown that 
the British manufacturers were actually the most 
effectual encouragers, not only of slavery, but 
of the slave-trade itself. By what means was 
the slave-trade with the Brazils carried on ? By 
British manufactures, directly imported from 
this country. The British manufacturer sent his 
cotton goods to the Brazils ; these were imme- 
diately shipped off from the Brazils to the coast 
of Africa, and were there exchanged for human 
ware, which the Brazilian trader brought back." 
(Hear, hear.) " You," said the honourable 
gentleman, "who are so sick with appren- 
ticeship in the West Indies ; you, who cannot 
wait for twenty-four months, when the appren- 
tices will be free, are you aware what respon- 
sibility lies upon every one of you at this mo- 
ment, with reference to the cultivation of cot- 
ton in America ? There are three millions of 
slaves in America. America does not talk of 
abolition, nor of the amelioration of slavery. 
It is a domestic institution, which appears des- 
D2 



42 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

tined to descend to the posterity of that free 
people ; and who are responsible for this enor- 
mous growth of what appears to be eternal sla- 
very ? Is it not the demand that creates the 
supply ? and is it not the consumption of cot- 
ton from whence that demand arises ? You 
consume 318,000,000 pounds of cotton which 
proceed from slave labour annually, and only 
45,000,000 pounds which proceed from free 
labour ; and that, too, while you have the means 
in India, at a very little expense, of obtaining; 
all you require from free labour. ^^ 

Said a distinguished author, after reading 
this speech to an immense meeting in Exeter 
Hall, "We shall be fools, indeed, if we do not 
take a lesson from that speech. (Hear, hear.)" 
Says the before-quoted American, in his com. 
munication published in London, " I hope the 
planters of our Southern States may not be 
afraid to be heard above their voices in asking 
themselves, ' What are we to do ? Can we 
meet this supposed change ? Is it right, or 
politic, or profitable, to continue the wasteful 
system of slave labour any longer ?' The an- 
swer of every candid man who inquires into the 
subject is, you cannot go on exhausting whole 
tracts of fertile land by this plan ; moving far- 
ther West every few years, and the original 
plantations falling back into an unreclaimed 



RIVALRY OF INDIA WITH THE SOUTH. 43 

wilderness (which is the operation at the South), 
without ruining yourselves and the country also. 
I believe it can be safely asserted that, with the 
present costly system of slave labour at the 
South, the planters will not be able to stand 
so many chances against them. If we have 
been able to produce the same article with a 
rich soil and ingenious machinery, it does not 
stand to reason that other countries, with the 
same soil (Dr. Roxburgh says ' he never saw 
or heard of an India farmer manuring in the 
smallest degree a rice-field ; yet these fields have 
probably for thousands of years continued to 
yield annually a large crop of rice of an aver- 
age of thirty to sixty fold — even eighty or one 
hundred has been known') and cheaper labour 
(because free), may not take advantage of 
our improvements, and, backed by a wealthy 
company, and encouraged by a powerful gov- 
ernment, be able to defy our competition. It 
is not possible ; it is against the very nature of 
our present system." 

The South have considered this matter ; at 
least, they are now beginning to see the ten- 
dency of these movements in the East. Says 
the " Cotton Circular," an able paper put forth 
by a convention of planters in South Carolina 
not long ago, ^'' The slave-holding race could not 
maintain their liberty or independence for five 



44 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

years without cotton. It is that which gives us 
our energy, our enterprise, our intelligenc^J'^ 
The Natchez Free Trader, in copying an ac- 
count of a great commercial meeting in Man- 
chester, with reference to the growth of cotton 
in India, says (I copy it as it was read in Exe- 
ter Hall this last summer) : 

" It may be remembered that when Captain 
Baylis, of the British East India forces, came 
to this city in the early part of last summer for 
the purpose of getting men acquainted with the 
process of raising cotton, to accompany him to 
India, the Free Trader was the first journal to 
expose and denounce his plan as a dangerous 
scheme to undermine the prosperity of the 
American planters and ruin the sale of their 
great staple. In no measured terms of rebuke, 
the Free Trader denounced both those wealthy 
and influential planters in Adams county who 
lent themselves to aid Captain Baylis in his de- 
signs, and those nine young men from the states 
of Mississippi and Louisiana who sold them- 
selves to the ancient and inveterate enemy of 
their native land ; but at that time the acting 
editor of that journal knew not the whole enor- 
mity of the insidious scheme. Little, perhaps, 
thought those young planters and overseers, 
when they consented to go to India, that they 
were to be used as tools in the unholy hands 
of the abolitionists ! (Hear, hear.) 



NTECHEZ TREE TRADER EXTRACT. 45 

" Of the Startling fact, that the East India 
cotton-growing project is but a powerful organ- 
ization designed to overthrow the system of 
domestic slavery in the American states, we 
have now the most ample evidence. This evi- 
dence we hasten to present to our readers ; it 
is vitally important to the South, and merits 
all the deep attention which it will surely re- 
ceive 

" The attitude of the South in sustaining the 
patriarchal institution of slavery at this mo- 
ment is full of interest. England is arraying 
its vast moral, commercial, and political power 
against us. The ocean queen is about to work 
her thirty millions of white slaves and serfs in 
the jungles and on the plains of India, for the 
express purpose of rendering the labour of three 
millions of black slaves in America unproduc- 
tive and of no value. This will be done. There 
is no vacillation or weakness of purpose in the 
English character. (Cheers.) All India will, 
in a year or two, teem like a vast beehive with 
the cotton enterprise, cheered on by the fratri- 
cide abolitionists and mock-philanthropists of 
the Northern States. Meanwhile, O'Connell, 
the Irish agitator, is invoked to agitate his 
countrymen against slavery on this side of the 
water, while, both in Ireland and England, his 
roaring voice is perpetually lifted up in abuse 



s 



46 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

of the noble-hearted, the independent, and the 
fearless Southern planters, as well as the Amer- 
( ican character at large. The Kirk of Scotland 
thunders her anathemas against the American 
Presbyterians, because they will not excommu- 
nicate slave-holding church members. The 
Wesleyans and the Quakers are perpetually 
using clerical influence against the rights and 
peace of our social institutions. The royal 
consort of the Queen of England is not asha- 
med to preside over the opening of a meeting 
vauatingly called the ' World's Convention,' 
the chief business of which was to abuse Amer- 
ican institutions — where Birney, once a slave- 
holder, and the negro Remond, side by side 
on the same platform with the highest bishops 
of the Church of England, and with O'Connell, 
lifted up their voices, traitors as they are, against 
their own native land ; all joining in full cry 
against a domestic institution which has come 
down unbroken from the ' world's gray fathers,' 
the holy patriarchs with whom angels walked 
and talked. (Laughter, and very loud cheers.)" 
You will probably smile to see the heteroge- 
neous mass of opinions and facts I have thrown 
together in this letter ; but nothing will strike 
you more, I believe, than the singular phenom- 
enon to which the enthusiastic editor of the 
Free Trader alludes. I do not believe that so 



COALITION OF ALL PARTIES. 47 

singular a coincidence ever occurred before as 
that we now witness in the union of English ab- 
olitionists and Liberals with their " old, inveter- 
ate enemy," the East India Company, the most 
benevolent philanthropists with the most selfish 
speculators, levellers with monopolists, and 
Chartists with the throne of Old England and 
her aristocracy, all mingling side by side in 
harmony and power to carry out a bold and 
grand design. 

Says the London article before quoted, 
" The two subjects connected with India, which 
now engross the attention of the people of Brit- 
ain, are of double character and opposite 
points. India wants from England justice and 
righteous protection, and a fair acknowledg- 
ment of her claims, as an integral part of the 
British empire. England wants from India 
raw materials for her manufactories, and the 
luxuries of coffee, sugar, and tobacco for her 
artisans and labourers ; and, most of all, she 
wants an extensive market for her numerous 
wares and fabrics, which she can produce cheap- 
er than any other country. These two differ- 
ent points of one great national question have 
now become the subjects of discussion by the 
philanthropists on the one side, and the mer- 
chants and manufacturers on the other. Both 



48 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

are working for the attainment of their separate 
objects at different ends of the same chain. 
The one will civilize India by justice and re- 
ligion, the other by unfettered commerce and 
an improved agriculture. Who would dare to 
say that these are things which the Southern 
people should pass by carelessly and heedlessly, 
and not prepare themselves to meet the coming 
change ?" 

One or two points more need a moment's at- 
tention. There is no probability that a long 
time will pass away before slavery will be abol- 
ished in British India. Many of all parties are 
already united for the subversion of the whole 
system ; and the spirit of the British people is 
so deeply aroused, that the government will 
not dare refuse their bold demand. 

It should not be forgotten by Americans that 
labour is cheaper in India than in any other por- 
tion of the world ; and that man's wants in that 
mild climate are far more simple, and supplied 
at a far less expense than in the United States. 
It is a common saying, that " in India a labour- 
er will work for a penny a day, and support 
himself." If this is not literally true, it is near- 
ly so. A gentleman who had been a captain 
in the service of the East India Company for 
thirteen years, assured me that the average 
price of labour throughout British India was 



BRIGHTER PROSPECTS FOR INBIA. 49 

less than six cents a day ; and that millions 
were suffering from hunger because they could 
not find any employment even at that price. 
What facilities, so auspicious, were ever before 
offered for the prosecution of a great enter- 
prise I And what a glorious change will come 
over India when it shall have been fully carried 
into effect ! Freedom will soon be declared ; 
agriculture will introduce commerce ; com- 
merce will introduce science and the arts of 
civilized life. The necessaries of existence she 
can produce from her soil, and England will 
supply her with luxuries. It is not too much 
to hope, I think, that the time is not far distant 
when the millions of that mighty empire shall 
rise from their long degradation, and, clothed 
in the bright livery of civilization, take their 
stand among the great family of Christian na- 
tions. 

But, in glancing over the paragraphs of this 
letter, many a reader has said to himself, or, if 
reading aloud, said to his hearer, " All this 
looks like truth, perhaps ; but the author of this 
book ought to know that England never will 
adopt a policy which would deprive her of a 
customer who takes her manufactured goods to 
the amount of $50,000,000 every year. If 
England will not buy our cotton, she is more 

Vol. II.— E 



50 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLANC. 

presumptuous even than usual in supposing that 
we shall purchase her manufactures." 

It would impoverish England, without doubt, 
to lose so valuable a customer, if she could not 
find another. But losses are not always im- 
poverishment ; and in this case they will cer- 
tainly be gains. If England loses 17 million 
customers in America, she gains 150 million in 
India. At the present time the entire con- 
sumption of English manufactures in India is 
only a cent a month for each individual ; Ja- 
maica consumes $20 a head annually ; Trini- 
dad, $30 ; Cape Colony, $30 ; Australia, $40 ; 
India, a New- York shilling a year ! Let the 
present plans of England be carried out (and 
England is quite apt to accomplish what she 
sets herself about in earnest), and, at the mod- 
erate computation of $5 a head (only one sixth 
as much as negroes just liberated in Trinidad 
consume), and you have the annual consump- 
tion in India of $750,000,000 of British man- 
ufactures. 

One more item will close what I have to say 
about India. The planter (if he ever reads this 
book, and for his sake, as well as my publishers, 
I hope he will) will say, " Well, suppose we 
do emancipate our negroes ? If what you have 
said be true, I am a ruined man ! For although 
slavery is an expensive system, yet with free 



FREE LABOUR. 51 

labour we cannot compete with cotton raised 
by labourers forced to work for sixpence a day 
or starve !" I think, my good sir, you are not 
a ruined man, though yon should liberate your 
slaves ; you would expect, of course, to receive 
compensation for them when given up ; and 
no law, I admit, could justly demand their re- 
lease without a fair compensation ; and the mo- 
ment you perform so wise, humane, and gener- 
ous an act, you will find, by experience, the su- 
perior economy of free over slave labour. For 
when your labourer is free, he is on expense to 
you only twelve hours a day ; and he will do 
the same work as a freeman for less money 
than he costs you now. And nights, rainy 
days, Sundays, holidays, sick-days, childhood- 
days, and worn-out and dying days he is at his 
own expense, and not yours. And I say farther, 
as long as you are a high-minded and enterpri- 
sing American, who has no cannots or ifnpossi- 
bilitics in his vocabulary, you can compete with 
an Englishman or any other man who works for 
a quarter of the money that you will pay your 
affectionate freeman, attached as he would be 
to your person. Yes, as long as you have not 
Americans themselves for rivals, you can raise 
your cotton and freight your ships with the great 
staple for Liverpool or the Continental ports, 
or, better than all, you can manufacture it your- 



52 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

selves, or bring it to the North, and we will 
engage to assist you. Or the wide world is 
open for you. Go with the fruit of your hon- 
est enterprise to any home of the great broth- 
erhood of man, and God go with you. You 
are his freemen. 

Besides, in any event, England must be de- 
pendant upon you for some time to come ; do 
what she will, she cannot consummate her 
East India project in one year. At present you 
supply her with your two great staples, cotton 
and tobacco. And your ingenuity, your skill, 
your free labour, your easier access by some 
9000 miles to Liverpool, and, above all, your 
unconquered and unconquerable Anglo-Ameri- 
can spirit, will still give you the advantage. 
Give America but a fair, open market, and 
England dreads her more than any other com- 
petitor. But continue your present system, 
and I fear you will gaze on the conflict and see 
your spoil divided among the strong ! 
With great respect, I am, sir, 

Your obedient servant, 
C Edwards Lester. 

Ulica, September 10, 1841. 



BRITISH INDIA. 53 



Dear — — , 

In this letter I propose calling your attention 
for a short time to the origin, growth, and abuse 
of British power in the possessions of the East 
India Company. I shall only contemplate the 
subject in some of its bearings, and particularly 
as it is connected with the question of slavery 
in those vast and populous regions. The facts 
which have been brought to light by parlia- 
mentary investigating committees, by the testi- 
mony of distinguished men who have resided 
in the East, and, more recently, by the anti- 
slavery convention assembled in London, leave 
no doubt on the minds of candid men who have 
examined the matter, that slavery not only ex- 
ists to an enormous extent, but in its most 
odious forms, in British India; and that the act 
of West India emancipation by no means ex- 
onerates the English government from the 
charge of upholding this system. 

We should probably search the chronicles 
of the world in vain for an instance in which a 
civilized nation has inflicted deeper wrong 
upon any portion of the human race than has 
been inflicted by England upon the millions 
of India. If the true history of the British do- 
E2 



54 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

minion in Asia, with all its injustice and op- 
pressions practised upon a prostrate and unof- 
fending race, could be read by the world, it 
would form some of the blackest pages in the 
whole catalogue of human suffering and wrong. 
Mr. Burke exclaimed, in one of his speeches 
more than half a century since, that the British 
empire in India Avas " an awful thing." 

Two hundred and forty years ago this sum- 
mer, Elizabeth granted to a company of Lon- 
don merchants an exclusive right to the com- 
merce of India for fifteen years ; and soon after 
four merchant-ships sailed from England to the 
Moluccas. The privileges of this company have 
been successively renewed, and, from its first 
feeble commencement up to the present time, 
it has been steadily expanding its power over 
those immense regions, until it has at last con- 
solidated an empire 1,500,000 square miles in 
extent, and embracing 150,000,000 subjects. 
To describe all the steps by which they have 
acquired this immense empire, the struggles 
they have passed through, and the base in- 
trigues they have practised at home to preserve 
their dominion ; the unjust advantages they have 
taken of other nations, as well as the outrageous 
tyranny that has characterized their dealings 
with the native chiefs and their people, would 



GOVERNMENT OF BRITISH INDIA. 55 

require many volumes. Of course, therefore, I 
can only cast a few rapid glances at the system. 

The territory over which the East India 
Company hold sway is the vast peninsula of 
Hindustan, bounded on the north by the great 
chain of the Himmalaya Mountains, separating 
India from China, oa the east by Birmah, on 
the south by the Bay of Bengal, and on the 
west by the great River Indus and the Indian 
Ocean. The Island of Ceylon is also em- 
braced in the English possessions. A short 
time since, Parliament published an estimate 
of the extent and population of the territories 
of British India, by which it appears that the 
East India Company have at the present time 
control over nearly 150,000,000 human be- 
ings. Their affairs are administered by a court 
of twenty-four directors, elected by the Com- 
pany, who choose their own chairman and 
deputy chairman, and appoint salaried officers 
of every description for carrying on their im- 
m.ense business. This court unites with the 
Board of Control, chosen from the queen's min- 
istry, in electing the Governor- general of Ben- 
gal, the governors of the presidencies of Madras 
and Bombay, of the subordinate dependencies, 
the commander-in-chief, and all inferior offi- 
cers. 

At each presidency the governor is assisted 



56 GLORY AND SHAMI3 OF ENGLAND. 

by a council composed of a certain number of 
the senior civil servants of the Company at 
that presidency. The most striking feature in 
the government of the Company is the vast 
military force by means of which their exten- 
sive dominion was originally acquired, and is 
still maintained. Its composition is perhaps 
more remarkable than that of any other army. 
India is subjected to a foreign yoke by her own 
troops, paid with her own money. And al- 
though mutinies have not been so frequent 
among them as one would suppose, yet several 
dreadful scenes of this kind have occurred to 
remind their oppressors that the nation which 
binds one end of a chain around their vassals, 
fastens the other around itself. 

The native army attained its present strength 
and discipline by gradual steps. A few Sepoy 
battalions were at first employed merely as an 
appendage to the Company's forces ; while an 
adjutant, captain, or some sergeants were the 
only English officers attached to them. With 
the skill communicated by these, and the use 
of musketry, they easily vanquished the irregu- 
lar troops of the native princes. The native 
army now comprises above two hundred and 
thirty thousand infantry and twenty-six thou- 
sand cavalry, constituting one of the best equip- 
ped and most efficient standing armies in the 



EAST INDIA COMPANY S FORCES. 57 

world ; all in a state of perfect discipline, and 
ready to take the field at a day's notice. The 
Company itself has also 8000 troops levied in 
Europe, aided by 20,000 of the queen's regu- 
lar army. 

Who can contemplate such a spectacle with- 
out feelings of indignation not to be suppress- 
ed ? That England, the most enlightened 
Christian nation on earth (in her own estima- 
tion), in an age, too, when such abundant light 
has been shed upon the rights of man, and 
which she herself boasts of doing so much to 
advance, should fasten so grinding a despotism 
upon nearly one quarter of the human race ; a 
despotism which can only be perpetuated by 
the overwhelming power of nearly 300,000 
armed men. 

The entire population of this vast empire are 
subjected to the most degrading servitude. 
Millions of them, it is estimated, are held in 
the most cruel bondage, while a vastly greater 
number are, in different forms, reduced to a 
condition of abject vassalage, bringing with it, 
in innumerable instances, a deeper degradation 
than any produced by West India or American 
slavery. 

But let us consider more particularly the 

MEANS BY WHICH THE COMPANY HAVE BROUGHT, 



58 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

AND STILL RETAIN, THESE NUMEROUS VASSAL 
STATES UNDER THEIR CONTROL. 

The first and most efficient expedient was to 
quarter in the territories of the native princes, 
with their real or apparent consent, troops 
maintained at their expense. They were un- 
derstood to be placed there solely to secure 
these princes, either against foreign aggression 
or the efforts of domestic rivals, without inter- 
fering in any shape with the internal govern- 
ment. The presence, however, in the heart of 
their dominions, of a force decidedly superior 
in discipline and number to their own, placed 
the native princes, of course, under an unsus- 
pected, but not less real control. 

This point gained, the next step was to re- 
quire tliat, instead of money-payments, the 
prince should cede a portion of his territory, 
the revenues of which should be applied to de- 
fray the expense of these subsidiary troops ; 
and, indeed, this often became necessary, as 
the expense of maintaining such troops was so 
great that the. prince was obliged to resort to a 
mortgage of his lands. With this cession of 
land was generally combined an agreement to 
intrust the defence of his borders entirely to 
the Company, and discontinue all political and 
diplomatic intercourse with every other power. 

The last stage of subjection arrived, when 



SUBJECTION OF NATIVE PRINCES. 59 

he was required to resign the whole adminis- 
tration into the hands of his foreign protectors, 
and to retain the mere pomp and name of roy- 
alty, stripped of his fortune and liberty. It is 
true, the first step was often cheerfully acceded 
to, and even solicited, by the prince when his 
power appeared in danger either from foreign 
or domestic enemies. But not a long time 
elapsed before the yoke was painfully felt, both 
by ruler and people ; and the native sovereign 
yielded up his lands only from a feeling of in- 
vincible necessity. Disturbances often arose 
under the grinding oppression of this foreign 
interference, and which could be suppressed 
only by an increased military force, which 
served still farther to augment the burdens of 
the people. 

At last, after many hard but unavailing 
struggles against the diplomacy, intrigue, cun- 
ning, and martial power and skill of the British 
empire, the prince, with his people, surrender- 
ed himself to the oppressive rule of his Chris- 
tian tyrants. This system has been practised 
so generally, and for such a length of time, that 
at last the greater part of the broad and rich 
lands of India have passed from the hands of 
their lawful proprietors into the hands of selfish 
and perfidious speculators, who, from the be- 
ginning, have gone to India for no other pur- 



60 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

pose than to amass fortunes by unjust requisi- 
tions from the Asiatic people. 

Consequences the most disastrous have re- 
sulted from this policy. 

Millions of the people of India have in con- 
sequence of it been starved to death. Said 
Dr. Bowering, than whom no man better un- 
derstands the state of the whole Asiatic world, 
in a speech delivered at the great meeting held 
a short time since in London, to relieve the 
wrongs of India : " We are called together to 
consider the interests of 150,000,000 of our 
fellow-subjects, and no man will feel that a 
mighty responsibility does not rest upon our 
shoulders. England has long held the sceptre 
over the millions of India ; but what has she 
ever done for these but rob them of their 
rights ? We boast that we are a civilized, a 
religious, an instructed nation ; what of all 
these blessings have we conferred upon India ? 
The inhabitants of that fine, that noble coun- 
try, are not to be compared even to the Swiss 
upon his bleak and barren mountains. We are 
a large commercial country ; but we have never 
extended the humanizing and civilizing bless- 
ings of commerce to India. This is an agri- 
cultural nation. What a picture does India 
present ! possessing boundless tracts of land, 
with every shade of climate, fit for the best 



EVIDENCE OP DR. BOWERING. 61 

productions of the earth, yet men perishing by 

THOUSANDS AND HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS FROM 
FAMINE, WHILE THE STOREHOUSES OF THE EaST 

India Company are filled with bread wrung 
from their soil by a standing army ! 

" We have boasted of our religion — I do not 
mean the form and words which too many con- 
sider to be the essence of Christianity — have 
we imparted any of it to the natives of India ? 
No, alas ! we hear much more of the complain- 
ings of those poor natives than of their grati- 
tude. We profess to be a well-governed na- 
tion, and well acquainted with the principles 
of liberty, which we highly prize : but we have 
not given that liberty to India. We have not 
even made justice accessible to them. I see 
the evidence of all this before me in the per- 
sons of these men (alluding to five plenipoten- 
tiary commissioners from India, who sat on the 
platform, dressed in the costume of their na- 
tion), who have come thousands of miles as 
suppliants, I believe up to the present time un- 
successful suppliants, for justice. So far from 
imparting commerce to India, we have ruined 
that which she commenced before. It is not 
many years since India supplied almost every 
European nation with cotton cloths : now, by 
the improvements in machinery, we supply her 
with our fabrics." 

Vol. II.— F 



62 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

It is said that in 1837 a famine in India 
swept off half a million of people, and that it 
was brought on chiefly by robbing the popula- 
tion of the produce of their soil, to fill the cof- 
fers of the East India Company. It is well 
known, indeed, that multitudes starve to death 
every year in India, because of the terribly op- 
pressive land-tax. 

Another mighty evil has been inflicted upon 
India ; and it has grown almost entirely out of 
this system of land robbery. During these 
famines uncounted multitudes sell themselves 

AND THEIR CHILDREN INTO SLAVERY for bread, tO 

prevent their dying by starvation. Says Mr. 
Colebrooke, in one of his celebrated minutes 
on the subject of East India slavery (Par- 
liamentary Papers, 138, 1839, p. 312), " The 
government permit parents and relatives in 
times of scarcity to sell children." " The 
number of slaves continually diminishing, a de- 
mand constantly exists for the purchase of 
them, which is supplied chiefly by parents sell- 
ing their own children in seasons of scarcity 
and famine, or in circumstances of individual 
and peculiar distress." 

He also says that during one of those sea- 
sons, in the Solapoor and adjacent districts, 
parents, being unable to support them, either 
sold or deserted their children, and that some 



FAMINES IN INDIA. 63 

of them were seized, carried off, and disposed 
of to the best advantage. What a picture is 
here presented ! 

Said one of the most distinguished statesmen 
in England to me the other day, " I have no 
doubt that upon inquiry we should find these 
appalling evils and calamities of which we hear 
so much, are to be traced far more frequently 
to the injustice of the East India Company than 
to the Providence of God. India is the slave 
of England, sir." And it should not be for- 
gotten that millions suffer continually there in 
all parts of the country from hunger, which is 
relieved by just food enough to keep them from 
actual starvation. 

It makes but little towards the justification of , 
England in this matter, that immense fortunes ^ 
are continually amassed in India by English- <, 
men who go there only for money. They grow 
rich not by the fair and honourable pursuits of 
commerce ; but their fortunes are the price of S 
children's blood and mothers' tears. Every 
day I meet with gentlemen who, after spending 
a part of their lives in India, have returned 
rich. They have rendered about as much real 
service to India as the titled ecclesiastic plu- 
ralists do to Ireland ; and are quite as well paid 
for it. 

I suppose, however, this matter is hardly 



64 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

open to the criticism of one who is no political 
economist ; and I presume that the principle 
which seems to prevail so extensively with the 
English government, of paying those men best 
who are of the least service to the country, is 
to be taken as one of the wise provisions of this 
wise and venerable monarchy ! There is more 
truth than fiction in Bulwer's saying, " We pay 
best, 1st. Those who destroy us, generals ; 2d. 
Those who cheat us, politicians and quacks ; 
3d. Those who amuse us, singers and musi- 
cians ; and, least of all, those who instruct us." 

The East India Company have not only 
sanctioned and upheld the Hindu and Moham- 
medan systems of slavery, but also the enslave- 
ment of multitudes of free and innocent per- 
sons, and that of their posterity after them, by 
means of which the slave population has been 
vastly increased ; and all this in open violation 
of Hindu, Mohammedan, and British law. 
They have countenanced the unrestricted sale 
of slaves belonging to persons subject to their 
authority, in which the tenderest ties of social 
life have been totally disregarded, and by 
which an extensive system of kidnapping has 
been created, with all its attendant horrors. 

They have also sanctioned the free importa- 
tion of slaves into their territories from foreign 
states, by which their number has been greatly 



SLAVERY IN INDIA. 65 

augvnented, and an external slave-trade actu- 
ally encouraged. They have confirmed, too, 
the continued slavery of large numbers of free 
persons, acknowledged by their own servants 
to be illegally held in bondage : " Thousands 
of whom," says Mr. Macnaughten, " are at this 
moment living in a state of hopeless though un- 
authorized bondage." 

In regard to the treatment of slaves in the 
East Indies. On this subject Mr. Garling, a 
resident councillor in Malacca, says : " Before 
I can believe that the slaves here are treated 
humanely, I must cast from my mind the re- 
membrance of the cries which I have heard, 
and the mental degradation, the rags, the 
Avretchedness, the bruises, the contused eyes 
and burns which I have witnessed ; I must blot 
out adultery from the calendar of vices ; I must 
disbelieve the numerous proofs which I have 
had of obstacles opposed to regular marriages, 
and the general humiliation of females. I must 
put away every idea of the modes of punish- 
ment of which eyewitnesses have given me ac- 
count, and the short jacket must no longer be 
deemed a badge of slavery. In addition to 
the domestic discipline to which slaves are 
subject, we find such punishments as the fol- 
lowing ordered by the police magistrate : 
' Chimpu, tv/clve lashes with the ratan, and 
F2 



66 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

to work on the roads in irons for a period of 
six weeks ; thereafter to be placed at his mas- 
ter's disposal :' offence, false accusation. ' Si 
Surra, one dozen stripes of a ratan, and to be 
worked in irons on the public roads for one 
month :' offence, impertinence and idleness. 
' Tom, sentenced to receive three dozen lashes, 
and to work on the public roads in irons for six 
months :' offence, absconding. Salip, slave 
boy, ' to receive eighteen lashes of a ratan :' 
offence, running away. ' Tulip, being a noto- 
riously bad character, and not having yet the 
wounds healed of the punishment inflicted on 
him on Monday last, is sentenced to be flogged 
on the posteriors with eighteen lashes of a rat- 
an :' offence, stealing from his brother. Toby 
' is directed to be punished with one and a 
half dozen lashes:' offence, insolence." 

Perhaps there is no feature in the whole sys- 
tem so painful to contemplate as the degrada- 
tion it brings upon woman. It is said there is 
no part of the world where slavery entails so 
many direful- consequences upon females. It 
is known that immense numbers of female 
slaves are kept for the vilest purposes by very 
many of the resident English in the service of 
the Company. 

Says a writer in a recent London paper I 
hold in my hand, " Such is the character, and 



DOMESTIC SLAVERY. 67 

such at this very time are the effects of slavery 
in British India, under the various forms of 
domestic or field slaves, eunuchs, concubines, 
and dancing girls, kept for purposes of prosti- 
tution, the lawless gains of which come into the 
hands of their masters. Slavery, sustained in 
its numbers by kidnapping, breeding, by home 
produce or foreign importation from Abyssfnia, 
Africa, Arabia, and other parts of the Avorld, 
exists to an enormous extent in our dominions 
in the East." 

Said the Duke of Wellington, who never yet 
slandered despotism, in his speech against Earl 
Grey's bill for the abolition of East India sla- 
very, " Though I entertain no doubt whatever 
that slavery does exist in that country, domes- 
tic slavery in particular, to a very considerable 
extent, yet I would be careful how I interfered 
with the matter. I know that in the hut of 
EVERY Mussulman soldier in the Indian army 
there is a female slave, who accompanies 
him in all his marches ; and I would recom- 
mend your lordships to deal lightly in the mat- 
ter if you wish to retain your sovereignty in 
India." 

But there is another matter that seems to be 
worth a moment's attention. Mr. Ricketts (who 
certainly ought to know something about the 
matter) says that there are 20,000 adult Anglo- 



68 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Indians in Bengal alone. An Anglo-Indian is 
one sprung from a European father by a native 
mother. They are said to be very beautiful, 
which one can easily believe ; and they are all 
somewhat educated — 2000 of them highly. 
They have lately addressed several memorials 
to the British Parliament, painting in strong 
colours the hardship of their situation ; enjoy- 
ing neither the privileges of Europeans nor In- 
dians, to both of which they consider themselves 
entitled by blood. 

I was yesterday making some inquiries about 
these things of a gentleman who has spent a 
considerable portion of his life in India, and I 
think you will be startled at some of his state- 
ments ; but you can rely upon their truth. "I 
have been long in India," said he, " and my 
connexion with the Company was such that I 
had good facilities for ascertaining the state of 
things there. The licentiousness which pre- 
vails among the British servants of the Compa- 
ny is shocking in the extreme. Most of them 
go out there unmarried ; and such is the social 
state of India, that it presents strong tempta- 
tions to young men connected with the military, 
civil, and medical professions, and the great 
mass of them indulge in the most vicious and 
abandoned habits. While marching with the 
troops, and during their journeyings into the 



TREATMENT OF FEMALES. 69 

interior on business, the most larutal outrages 
are often inflicted by them upon Indian girls. 
I have known not a few instances in which 
beautiful Hindu and Mohammedan females, 
impelled by hunger, have entered the quarters 
of the officers to beg for bread, and could only 
get the boon they craved by first yielding them- 
selves to the unhallowed passions of English- 
men. I have seen it stated that there are in 
India fifty thousand persons whom we call An- 
glo-Indians. I can only say that I believe there 
are nearer five times that number. Why, sir, 
you can have no conception of the extent of 
these evils ; and it is insufferable that the Com- 
pany's officers should sanction such things. 
The truth is, they have too little objection to 
the system themselves. An army cannot move 
in India without working the destruction of 
virtue and the degradation of woman." 

I should not have believed this Avithout pretty 
good evidence. It seems too horrible to be 
true. But, says Isaac Barrow, " This world of 
ours has grown so bad, that it requires great 
power of creduUty to doubt a man's words 
when he would tell you some new thing about 
iniquity." 

There are some persons who pretend to say 
that even the Imperial Parliament (whose pow- 
er is supreme) has no right to abolish slavery in 



TO GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the East Indies: " It is a civil, a social institu- 
tion ; a matter of caste ; something which had 
its origin in Hindu and Mohammedan legisla- 
tion." But neither the Board of Control nor 
the Court of Directors have any scruples about 
sanctioning the abuses of which I have spoken : 
they seem to think they can invade the homes 
of 150,000,000 of the Asiatic people, and un- 
ceremoniously deprive them of their "unalien- 
able rights :" all this they can do, and violate 
no laAv ! 

What has Christian England for the last 
240 years done for heatheji India ? This is a 
question worthy of a moment's consideration 
from a man Avho, in this busy, selfish world, 
has time and humanity to think about the souls 
of nearly one quarter of the great human fam- 
ily. Bishop Heber says, that " Among those 
who, from the principles of infidelity, or from 
the absorbing influence of worldly pursuits, felt 
little immediate concern in religion, and Avho, 
in the acquisition and consolidation of power 
amid the half-civilized votaries of idolatry and 
imposture, were tremblingly alive to the dan- 
ger of offending them by the too prominent 
profession of a pure faith, it may be easily ima- 
gined that no effort would be made." And for 
a very long time no effort ivas made. Heathen 
India was of as much service to England as 



CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 71 

Would have been Christian India, and perhaps 
more ; for besotted idolaters will more passive- 
ly wear the chain. 

It will be remembered that in the beginning 
of the last century the King of Denmark, Fred- 
eric IV., established a Christian mission on the 
Coromandel coast. Bartholomew Zeingenbal- 
grus and Henry Plutche, educated at the Uni- 
versity of Halle, landed in India in 1705, and 
commenced their labours. George I. of Eng- 
land, Archbishop Wake, and the Society for 
Promoting Christian Knowledge (then recent- 
ly established), united heartily in the work ; 
the mission constantly receiving accessions of 
strength. In 1750 Christian Frederic Swartz, 
a man whose name will be always honoured, 
sailed for India to join this mission. I have 
only time casually to allude to this truly apostolic 
man. For nearly fifty years he devoted himself 
untiringly to this great work, and " his equal 
has never," says the North American Review, 
" apj>eared on the shores of India. What 
Heber might have been had he lived we know 
not." 

Much honour is justly awarded by the civil- 
ized world to the English Baptists, whose learn- 
ed and assiduous labours, in the effort to Chris- 
tianize India, commenced in 1792. In October 
of that year, a few Baptist ministers held a 



72 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

meeting at Kettering, in Northamptonshire, and 
resolved to form a Society for the Propagation 
of the Gospel. These honest but poor men 
raised fourteen pounds on the spot ; no great 
sum, to be sure, but worth to India far more 
than its value on " 'Change." But contribu* 
tions flowed in from all parts of England, and 
in a few months the society was enabled to 
send out two missionaries. The choice, by 
peculiar good fortune, fell upon Thomas and 
Carey, two " good men and true." They were 
enthusiasts, the world would say : well, call 
them so. I honour an enthusiast of this stamp : 
such men are required to pioneer any great en- 
terprise. It is said, that when the two mission- 
aries were introduced to each other for the first 
time as colleagues in this noble design, they 
could not refrain from shedding tears. 

In 1801 they published the New Testament 
in the language of Bengal. Marquis "Wellesley 
did one thing now worth more than all his victo- 
ries. When Carey was struggling on under the 
embarrassments of poverty, Wellesley appoint- 
ed him Professor of the Bengalee and Sanscrit 
in the College of Fort William, with a salary of 
d£1500. This mission has lived and will live. 
Those men, to say nothing of their grammars, 
dictionaries, &c., have translated and publish- 
ed the whole Bible in the Sanscrit, Bengalee, 



CLAUDIUS BUCHANAN. 73 

Hindu, Mahratta, and Orissa languages. The 
New Testament has been published by them in 
twenty-four Indian dialects ; and it is an inter- 
esting fact, that 100,000,000 idolaters in In- 
dia can now read the words of Christ in their 
own tongue. 

No one who is familiar with the progress of 
Christianity in Asia can think of India Avithout 
recalling the name of Claudius Buchanan. 
Says a writer in the North American Review, 
" The first serious, decided, and persevering 
attempt to awaken the public attention of Prot- 
estant England was made as late as 1805, by 
one who has not inappropriately been termed 
the Apostle of the Indies. During the century 
in which they had been acquiring their Ori- 
ental empire, the British East India Company, 
intent on the pursuits of commerce and ambi- 
tion, and contending frequently not only for 
aggrandizement, but for existence, were but 
little at leisure to attend to the moral and reli- 
gious claims even of their own European ser- 
vants, much less to consider those of their na- 
tive subjects. But to the eye of Christian ob- 
servation the matter always appears in an aspect 
which takes its character more from the lights 
of eternity than from any views of short-sight- 
ed worldly policy ; and it is not surprising that 
a subject so grand in itself, and so intimately 

Voi. II.— G 



74 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

connected with his own profession, should have 
early occurred to the mind of such a diligent 
and wakeful observer as Mr. Buchanan." 

Buchanan tells us, with great candour, that 
a word which once fell from the good Bishop 
Porteus on the subject, first inspired him with 
the purpose of devoting his life to the enlight- 
enment of India. Dr. Buchanan made an ap- 
peal to English Christians on the claims of In- 
dia, which awakened public sensibility in Great 
Britain to such a degree as had never been wit- 
nessed before in a similar cause. 

On the 22d of June, 1813, Lord Castlereagh 
proposed in the House of Commons the forma- 
tion of an ecclesiastical establishment for India. 
The measure was carried in the Commons by 
a large majority, and in the Lords without op- 
position. The Company's charter, which was 
about expiring, was again renewed. The crown 
established a bishopric, and soon afterward 
Calcutta was erected into a bishop's see. The 
learned and pious Dr. Middleton was first se- 
lected to fill that important station. He fell a 
victim to the climate in 1822, after eight years 
of active and holy exertion. 

Reginald Heber was appointed his successor. 
It is a painful fact in this world's history that 
the career of such men is almost always short. 
The heathen poet spoke Christian truth when 



BISHOP HEBER. 75 

he said, " They become so much like celestials, 
the gods take them home." One of Heber's 
biographers has used the following beautiful 
language in speaking of his death : " His sun 
was in its meridian power, and its warmth most 
genial, when it was suddenly eclipsed forever. 
He fell, as the standard-bearer of the cross 
should ever wish to fall, by no lingering delay, 
but in the firmness and vigour of his age, and 
in the very act of combat and triumph. His 
Master came suddenly, and found him faithful 
in his charge, and waiting for his appearing. 
His last hour was spent in his Lord's service, 
and in ministering to the humblest of his flock. 
He had scarcely put off the sacred robes with 
which he served at the altar of his God on 
earth, when he was suddenly admitted to his 
sanctuary on high, and clothed in the garments 
of immortality." 

The other day, in conversing with a friend 
of Mrs. Opie, I ascertained that the following 
tribute to his memory was written by that cele- 
brated lady : 

" Here hush'd be my lay for a far sweeter verse ; 
Thy requiem I'll breathe in thy numbers alone, 
For the bard's votive offering, to hang on thy hearse, 
Shall be form'd of no language less sweet than thy own. 

Thou art gone to thy grave, but we will not deplore thee, 
Since God was thy refuge, thy ransom, thy guide; 

He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee, 
And death has no sting, since the Saviour has died." 



76 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Much good has resulted from the labours of 
the church missionaries ; though it may well 
be doubted if the peculiar forms and ceremo- 
nies of the Established Church are best adapted 
to the religious wants of a rude and uninstruct- 
ed people. It is well known, too, that other 
Christian missionaries in India have never ex- 
perienced any too much toleration from the re- 
ligious Establishment there. 

The London Missionary Society have made 
noble exertions in India, and they have met 
with great success. But I am inclined to think 
that no men who have gone to India as mis- 
sionaries have laboured with greater zeal or 
with more success than those who have been 
sent from America. The first missionaries 
went from the United States to India in 1812. 
The operations of the American Board of For- 
eign Missions are confined to Ceylon and Bom- 
bay. They have thirteen stations, twenty-five 
American rnissionaries, six churches, and more 
.han ninety schools, numbering nearly 4000 
scholars. In addition, they have several press- 
es, from which they distribute large quantities 
Oi Bibles, tracts, &c. 

The American Baptist missionaries have also 
laboured there with great zeal and success. 
Some of the most brilliant examples of Chris- 
tian heroism and firm endurance have been 



OPPOSITION TO THE MISSIONARIES. 77 

exhibited by American women, who have gone 
to aid in evangelizing that great continent. 
We all remember the beautiful memoir of Mrs. 
Judson. 

But several causes have contributed to ob- 
struct the progress and weaken the influence 
of all these missions — causes but little appre- 
ciated by the Christian world. 

1. Until 1812, the East India Company not 
only gave no encouragement to missionaries to 
labour in India, but actually opposed their ef- 
forts. They knew that the Hindu and Mo- 
hammedan superstitions, which had existed for 
ages, would not suddenly give way to the pure 
doctrines of Christianity ; and, fearful of every- 
thing that might in any degree disturb the quiet 
of their empire, were careful not to arouse the 
inveterate prejudices of the natives by any in- 
terference with their religion. Indeed, it is 
stated that in many instances heavy taxes have 
been imposed upon the natives by the Compa- 
ny for the support of heathen temples, and even 
Juggernaut, for the purpose of strengthening 
the British rule. Nor are the cases few in 
which the Company have united with the id - 
aters in undermining the influence of the mis- 
sionaries. There has been great hostility man- 
ifested by the Company towards Christianity! 
G2 



78 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and this is nothing more than was to be ex- 
pected. 

Bishop Heber says of the character of the 
Company's servants, " Many of the adventu- 
rers who come hither from Europe are the 
greatest profligates the world ever saw ; men 
whom nothing but despotism can manage, and 
who, unless they were really under a despotic 
rule, would insult, beat, and plunder the na- 
tives without shame or pity. Even now many 
instances of insult and misconduct occur. ^^ 

2.. The very existence of such an unjust and 
cruel despotism as the Company have reared is 
a perpetual and insuperable barrier to the Chris- 
tianizing of India. How little likely are the 
natives to adopt our religion when the represent- 
atives of a Christian nation among them pay so 
little regard to justice I It is not too much to 
say that heathen conquerors have seldom 
brought in their train a more oppressive, al- 
though they may sometimes have established 
a more bloody government than that of the 
Company. Besides, it does not require the 
keen-sighted perception of a Hindu to discover 
the glaring contradiction between the lives of 
Englishmen there, and the pure and benevolent 
spirit of the missionary and his faith. These 
considerations would alone fully account for 
the slow progress of Christianity in India. 



OBSTACLES TO MISSIONARY SUCCESS. 79 

3. But there is still another obstacle to the 
spread of Christianity, not only in India, but in 
all portions of the pagan world, of which it 
gives me pain to speak. I refer to the sectari- 
anism of the missionaries ; and I speak of it 
with the greatest pain ; for I do not love to 
blame those self-denying men who have been 
willing to exchange the friends, the literature, 
the happiness of an English or an American 
home, with all the sweet charities of domes- 
tic life, for the dark abodes of idolatry : how 
does their zeal contrast with ours, when we 
hear their prayers to send them of our wealth 
sufficient to provide for them the common ne- 
cessaries, to say nothing of the comforts, of 
life, and shut our ears to their cry ? But I have 
felt this matter most deeply, and I must allude 
to it. 

There is, in fact, I believe, far less sectarian- 
ism among missionaries than among those who 
send them ; and, in illustration of this, we have 
only to look over Great Britain and America, 
and enumerate the hundreds of sects, and listen 
to their strifes, controversies, and bickerings. 
Still, the missionaries are by no means free 
from this unhallowed spirit ; and the heathen 
is not so blind but that he can see how repug- 
nant to the precepts of Christ is the very exist' 
ence of sects. Christ declared that a kingdom 
divided against itself could not stand. 



80 GLORY NAD SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

The heathen find two missionaries among 
them from England or America to teach the 
same great system of faith — belief in the same 
Saviour, and preparation for the same heaven ; 
and yet the Baptist spreads the Lord's Table, 
and forbids his brother to come to the feast ! 
Perhaps his brother has come from a distant 
station, and called to take him by the hand 
and rest a while in his house. They will pray 
together, weep together, and appear to love 
each other ; but they cannot sit together at the 
great Christian Feast. Will the Hindu call 
this caste ? or what ? 

A fact was related to me by a missionary 
who had been several years in India, w^hich is 
in point. " I had," said he, " baptized, by 
sprinkling, a native in India, and he seemed to 
understand the nature and feel the power of 
Christianity. Being obliged to leave my sta- 
tion for a while, a Baptist brother, at my re- 
quest, came to take charge of my school du- 
ring my absence. On a certain occasion he 
was conversing with the native to whom I al- 
lude, on the subject of baptism. Ascertaining 
that I had performed that rite upon him, the 
Baptist entered into an argument to convince 
him that he had not been baptized ; that, what- 
ever I might have said, he could be sure that he 
had not been baptized ; and that, if he would 



EFFECTS OF SECTARIANISM. 81 

be saved, he must be immersed. The poor hea- 
then shook his head, saying, ' Ah ! Boodah is 
a better God !' and returned to the embrace of 
his idols. I saw him after this, and told him that 
I would immerse him if he chose ; for I consid- 
ered the form of baptism of little consequence. 
But he replied, ' I can't tell who speaks the 
most wisely ; though I am certain you cannot 
both have the same religion.' " 

It is well knoAvn that the Baptist Church in 
America, after many bitter complaints, has se- 
ceded from the American Bible Society, be- 
cause they would not print a new edition of 
the Bible, and change the phraseology of those 
parts which speak of baptism ! 

The Established Church have good bishops 
and ministers at their missionary stations, but 
they deny the validity of all other ordinations. 
They tell the heathen that the Scotch or the 
American Presbyterian or Baptist missionary is 
no minister ; no ambassador of Christ ; has no 
risht to administer the sacred ordinances of 
the Church. It makes the heart sick to con- 
template these things. The pagan looks on, 
and more firmly adheres to his idols. 

Can it be expected, either, that the heathen 
will perceive any beauty or divinity in a reli- 
gion which, by the practice of Christian na- 
tions, must appear to them to sanction the 



82 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

highest crimes and abuses ever perpetrated on 
earth ? Christ commanded his followers to love 
their enemies. Christians destroy their ene- 
mies by war, and gibbet them upon the gallows. 
God says, all souls are mine. Christians have 
trafficked in the souls of men no less than the 
heathen world. The Bible declares that no 
drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God. 
Intemperance costs England and America sev- 
eral hundred millions every year. But it is 
needless to enumerate the vices of Christen- 
dom, and I should not have alluded to the 
subject at all, except to account for the slow 
progress Christianity has made in India. 

[But the days of East India oppression are 
numbered. Until recently very little has been 
known in England of its extent and horrors. 
The facts, however, which have been collected, 
and diffused over England, within the last year, 
have aroused the British people, and they have 
risen in their might, determined to overthrow 
this gigantic structure of wrong. The Right 
Hon. Dr. Lushington, not less from the deep 
interest he takes in promoting the general free- 
dom and happiness of mankind, than in compli- 
ance with the urgent solicitation of the reform- 
ers, has assumed the conduct of this great ques- 
tion in the House of Commons ; and he will be 



PRESENT STATE OF THE INDIAN RACE. 83 

supported by the whole Liberal Party in Great 
Britain. Success attend the effort ! 

At present, when we look at India, we see 
150,000,000 misgoverned human beings, na- 
tives of the most productive climates on the 
face of the earth, who ought to be in prosperity 
and comfort, and under the British banner en- 
joying freedom, but who are actually in a 
worse condition than that of slaves, and ren- 
dered beggars by oppression.] 

Faithfully yours, 



84 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

To Filz-Greene Halleck, Esq. 

London, July — , 1840. 

Sir, 

I WISH that in addressing to you a letter 
about Thomas Campbell, I could render some 
worthy tribute to your genius ; for I consider 
literary men the glory of their country. But I 
trust you will accept this from an obscure in- 
dividual as an expression of his regard for one 
who has done so much to bear a knowledge of 
our literature to other lands. 

It has been my happiness often to meet the 
illustrious author of " Wyoming," during my 
residence in the metropolis ; and I shall always 
remember his conversations and society as 
among the brightest spots of my English life. 
I can remember no author I read with so much 
enthusiasm in. early years ; no one who exerted 
so powerful an influence upon my taste and 
character. How many long summer days have 
I whiled away under the large elms which 
fling their green arms over the shining river 
that rolls its gentle current by my child- 
hood's home, with the " Pleasures of Hope" 
and my " faithful dog" alone " to bear me 
company." 



CAMPBELL AT THE CONVENTION. 85 

How often did I then long for boyhood's 
years to pass, and bring the time when I could 
dash into the wide Avorld, and roam free as the 
" wild bird in his native Avild-wood." It was 
one of my brightest dreams then, and ever has 
been since, that I should one day see Thomas 
Campbell. Whenever I thought of England I 
thought of him: there was a charm in his 
name. 

The first time I saw Campbell was in the 
Convention. He came into the Hall with Dr. 
Beattie, and was immediately recognised by 
several gentlemen, who announced his name. 
He was called for from every quarter. One 
of the American delegation who was then 
speaking gave way, and the poet was received 
with the most enthusiastic applause. 

He said he did not wish to make a speech ; 
but, as one of the literary men of England, was 
proud to enrol his name on the records of a 
Convention assembled for so magnificent a pur- 
pose. He considered this Convention one of 
the noblest bodies of men the great interests of 
civilization and humanity had ever brought to- 
gether. The philanthropists of the world had 
gathered here to sympathize with the suffering 
and oppressed of all nations, and to devise 
means for the universal diff'usion of liberty. 
They had proposed for themselves the most 

Vol. II.~H 



86 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

sublime object that ever entered the human 
mind — the emancipation of man everywhere 
from the thraldom of man. He hoped these 
guardians of humanity would believe that he 
felt the deepest interest in all their movements ; 
and his earnest prayer was for God to bless 
them. 

" Friends of humanity," said he, " I extend 
to you the fellowship and co-operation of the 
literary men of England. The poetry of the 
•- world has always been on the side of liberty ; 
/ and it always will be there. I am glad to see, 
^ too, the representatives of the great American 
Republic mingling in your councils. We greet 
them warmly as brothers to our shores; and 
I trust when they return, they will tell the lit- 
erary men of America, that in refusing to lift up 
their voice fearlessly against slavery, they have 
no sympathy from us. I am rejoiced to see so 
many men here from America. It does my 
heart good to see you. 

" Freedom ! I know not whether to call 
thee the parent or the child of the press ; but 
certain it is, that blissful freedom lives, and 
moves, and has its being only in the liberty of 
the press. (Cheers.) The press of this coun- 
try is a very good press in many respects, but 
it has n?ot done its full duty on this question ; 
and, Americans, I tell you frankly, if we are 



Campbell's speech. 87 

deficient in this respect, you are much more so. 
There are some splendid exceptions ; and no 
one can hear me without having his recollec- 
tion called to Channing. But, generally, the 
literary men of America have shirked the 
question. I wish to avoid everything like per- 
sonal allusions, otherwise I could name those to 
whom I refer, and with whom I am displeased. 
If there be a diversity of opinion upon the sub- 
ject of slavery among them ; if any one of them 
will come forward and prove its blessings, in the 
devil's name let him do so ; but do not let him 
shirk the question. (Cheers and laughter.) I 
therefore beg you, American gentlemen, to 
give my compliments to my friends on the 
other side of the Atlantic, and tell them that, 
though I scold them a little, yet I like them 
very well. Tell them from me to write upon 
the question ; but, as a corollary to that, tell 
them, too, not to let it be in verse. (Laugh- 
ter.) The Americans have noble heads for 
prose ; among them they have the very first 
prose writers in the world ; but in verse — ah ! 
I will say nothing — it may do very well to run 
upon all fours, but it cannot rise. (Laughter.) 
It puts me in mind of the old story of the dy- 
ing man. A friend was preaching to him, and 
painting all the joys of Paradise, when the 
poor fellow said, ' Oh, say no more about the 



88 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

^-, joys of Paradise ; your bad style makes them 
< disgusting.' 

" 1 will say no more ; only let me return my 
fervent thanks to my kind friends for the hon- 
our of belonging to this noble association. It 
goes to my heart when I think of the number 
of my fellow-men who are labouring under the 
horrors of slavery ; but when I look around 
me here, I see the germes of liberty for them 
budding forth. (Cheers.)" 

This slur upon the genius of America excited 
a deep sensation throughout the Hall. The 
loud cheers which had followed every Avord, 
were now exchanged for murmurs of disappro- 
bation. I was exceedingly astonished to hear 
such sentiments from the lips of Campbell. 
The sympathy of the Convention was obviously 
on the side of America. They were evidently 
words spoken in an unguarded moment ; and, 
as I afterward was happy to know, no one re- 
gretted them so much as Campbell himself. 

The American speaker again took the floor, 
and nobly replied to him. He defended his 
countrymen like a true-hearted American ; and, 
in illustration of the genius of Whitier and Bry- 
ant, quoted some of their best lines, which were 
received with generous enthusiasm and pro- 
longed cheering. 

But this speech, for many reasons, Camp- 



Campbell's regret. 89 

bell never should have made. It was unjust, 
for our best poets have written as good lines 
as he : it was indelicate ; for even had it been 
true, he was the last man who should have 
said anything about it. I listened to his speech 
with pain. 1 have often seen him since ; and 
at every interview he has said something of 
that speech. He seemed grieved and morti- 
fied about it, and requested me to make his 
peace with my countrymen. 

" I had not," said he, " the faintest idea of 
making a speech, or of saying one word when 
I entered the Convention. I am not accus- 
tomed to speaking in public assemblies, and 
whenever I make the attempt I am troubled 
with nervous excitement, which so agitates me 
that I hardly know what I am saying : it was 
in an unguarded moment that I made that 
odious and indelicate speech. 

" Do you suppose, sir, it will be generally 
known in America ?" I replied that it would 
be printed in a great many papers, and severely 
criticised ; and what pained me more was, that 
it would be read by thousands who had loved 
and honoured his name, and chiefly by those 
who were familiar with his poetry. 

" Well," said he, " will your countrymen 
forgive me if I repent ?" I answered that we 
were not ungenerous in America, 1 trusted ; 
H 2 



90 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and although I was very sorry he had said 
what he did, yet I doubted not, when his feel- 
ings were known across the water, he would 
still be loved and admired. 

" Well," he answered, " I will make all the 
atonement I can. I will write you a note, au- 
thorizing you to tell what my feelings are, and 
requesting you to make the facts of the case 
known." He took his pen and wrote the fol- 
lowing note : 

My dear Friend, 
Make my peace with your countrymen ; it 
was a foolish and inconsiderate speech that I , 
made at the Convention ; it was unlike myself. 
I would give a hundred pounds I had never 
uttered it. 

Yours truly, 

Thos. Campbell. 

61 Lincoln's Inn Fields, 13th July, 1840. 

*' There, sir," said he, as he handed me the 
note, " I can do nothing more ; I wish I could. 
And I want you to promise me that you will 
act in my defence when you go home. Not a 
day of my life scarcely has passed for many 
years that I have not thought and ;sp>ken of 
America ; and yet I never said in all my life so 
cruel a thing about you before ; and I never 



CAMPBELLS FEELINGS TOWARDS AMERICA. 91 

will again. I have always loved America bet- 
ter than any land on earth except my own. 
When the whole paltry tribe of Reviewers and 
Critics in Great Britain were traducing Amer- 
ica and her Authors, I opened the columns of 
the Magazine I edited at that time for articles 
which espoused your cause, and wrote such pa- 
pers myself; and what strange fatality urged 
me on to say those words that fell from me in 
Freemasons' Hall, the Lord only knows ; I 
don't. But it was one of Tom Campbell's 
blunders ; and as your inimitable Sam Slick 
says, ' it's just my luck, for it never would have 
happened to any other man.' 

" Tell your countrymen I love America ; and 
God knows I am sincere when I say so. I love 
your country, for it is the scene of my ' Ger- 
trude of Wyoming.' I love America for her 
stupendous scenery ; I love her for her genius 
and her literature, and her poetry too — for 
some of the sweetest verses ever written on 
earth have been written by your own poets — 
and, above all, I love America for her noble 
free Institutions. There everybody has enough 
to eat, and it is the only country on earth, too, 
of which this can be said ; and that is no small 
thing. Oh ! sir, if you only knew the millions 
of poor wretches in Great Britain who are 
famishing for want of bread, and all, too, in a 



92 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

beautiful green world, where nature spreads a 
bountiful table for all her children ! Your 
country opens its broad arms of kindness and 
of plenty to the thousands who are driven from 
our shores by oppression, and adopts them as 
her own children. Oh ! there is something 
beautiful in liberty." I promised him that on 
my return to America I would faithfully attend 
to his request. 

[I found, on my reaching home, a general 
feeling of surprise and grief at the remarks of 
Campbell ; and I addressed a communication 
to the Editor of the Evening Post, which was 
published in that paper, and extensively copied 
into the leading journals of the country. I sent 
a copy of the paper to the Poet, and, in ac- 
knowledging the receipt of it, he expressed his 
satisfaction, and thanked me for '• acting as 
guardian of his fame in the Land of Wyo- 
ming."] 

My first interview with Campbell was in a 
literary circle at the house of Dr. Beattie. In 
person he is rather below the middle stature ; 
his features indicate great sensibility, and that 
fastidiousness for which he is so remarkable in 
everything he undertakes. His eyes are large, 
peculiarly striking, and of a deep blue colour. 
His nose is aquiline, and his expression gener- 
ally saturnine. He has long worn a wig; but 



Campbell's talk about Wyoming. 93 

the natural colour of his hair, I believe, is dark. 
There is nothing very brilliant in his conversa- 
tion except when he is excited, and then every 
charm which wit, fancy, learning, and enthusi- 
asm can throw around conversation, combines 
to render his society agreeable. 

He made many inquiries about the scenery 
of the Vale of Wyoming. I remarked that his 
own description of it was as true to nature as 
it could have been had he visited it himself ; 
and I ventured to inquire how he had gained 
so correct an idea of it. 

" I read," he replied, " every description of 
the Vale of Wyoming I could lay my hands 
upon, and saw several travellers who had been 
there. I am glad to hear you express the 
opinion that my description of it is a good one." 

" Perhaps, sir," I continued, " you may one 
day see that vale yourself; and I can assure 
you no man would meet a warmer greeting 
in America." " Oh, sir, I don't know what 
would make me so happy as to go there. I 
should like to travel through it incog. ; for I 
hate a crowd, and noise, and public display. I 
have always thought I should like to cross the 
Atlantic ; and it is not much more of an enter- 
prise now to go to New- York than to Paris. 
But I think I am too old to undertake it: I 
fear the time has gone by ; and yet I don't 



04 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

quite like the idea that I am too old to do any- 
thing I wish. I don't know but my heart is as 
young as ever ; though my bodily infirmities 
remind me that poets must grow old as well as 
others. 

" But I must talk with you a good deal more 
about Columbia. Will you come and see me ? 
Come and breakfast with me next Saturday 
morning, will you ? You won't find much to 
interest you, to be sure, for I am an old man. 
And, since you are an American, I will, in 
compliment to your sensible Yankee custom 
of early rising, ask you to come before my 
usual breakfast-hour. I commonly breakfast 
at half past eleven. Now you come at half 
past ten ; and then you must let me turn Yan- 
kee, and ask you as many questions as I like." 

There was a free-heartedness and unaffected 
simplicity in his manner which was very de- 
lightful. Dr. Beattie happened to be passing 
us at that moment, and he engaged to break- 
fast with us. " But I will come only on one 
consideration," said he ; " you shall both of 
you dine with me day after to-morrow at six. 
We will have but one or two other friends 
present, and I think we can pass a few hours 
pleasantly." 



DINNER AT DR. BEATTIE S. 95 

There is nothing of his own which an English- 
man values himself on more than his hospitality, 
and nothing of which he has more reason to be 
proud. A more elegant dinner could not have 
been spread than was furnished for us when we 
came together. No man understands better 
than an Englishman what befits such an occa- 
sion ; and while everything which can minis- 
ter to the luxury and comfort of the guest is 
provided, he is made to feel at home. He is 
not singled out as the special object of atten- 
tion ; he is not urged to "eat a little more of 
this," or "just to taste of that" — a practice 
quite too common with us. A spectator Avould 
not distinguish the stranger guest at the table 
from a familiar friend. Kind and simple-heart- 
ed attentions are exhibited in the most delicate 
manner. The entertainment seems got up less 
for display than comfort — the only vv^ord in our 
language that expresses the idea. 

After an hour passed pleasantly with the 
family circle, Campbell and myself were left 
alone with our host ; and I can assure you that 
the best part of this splendid entertainment 
came (in the language of Erin) after the en- 
tertainment was over. The two Poets seemed 
fired with their wonted inspiration. I wish I 
could give you their conversations at length, 
and do so with propriety. But too many flash- 



96 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

es of fancy and strokes of wit, too many efFu 
sions of lofty and exquisite feeling, mingled in 
their conversation ever to be described. They 
were like pencillings of light on the summer 
cloud, that pass away too quickly to be fixed by 
the painter's eye. 

Besides, I would be careful not to say too 
much about scenes of this kind I meet in Eng- 
land ; for there is nothing so painful to me as 
the thought of violating the sacredness of con- 
fidence. Do not understand me to mean, that 
I suppose any special confidence was reposed 
in me more than in other visiters ; but no one 
can be admitted familiarly to a family circle, 
without seeing and hearing many things of 
which he should never speak in other places. 

There is but one vice of conversation I de- 
spise more than flattery ; and that is when ex- 
pressions of sincere regard, made in the ful- 
ness of our souls, are attributed to this odious 
habit. Were all men honest, there would be 
no occasion for withholding the genuine feel- 
ings of the heart. We might converse with as 
little disguise as children, and disclose the sen- 
timents of the soul as truthfully as the sky mir- 
rors itself on the bosom of the lake. I was 
persuaded that the spirit of kindness, so con- 
spicuous in the writings of these men, would 
exhibit itself no less strikingly in their inter 



MY BLIND FRIEND. 97 

course with others ; and I was not disappointed. 
I frankly expressed the feelings I had long 
cherished towards them, and had reason to be- 
lieve my motives were understood and appre- 
ciated. 

A dear Friend of mine, whose eyes have been 
long closed by blindness to the beauties of the 
natural world, once expressed a desire to go 
with me on a pilgrimage to the scenes which 
have been made classic ground by the genius 
of Campbell. He had read his works until 
every line was as familiar as household words, 
and he wished to visit those quiet spots, and 
gather fresh inspiration from them. 

No man was ever gifted with a warmer or 
more generous heart, as few have been with a 
finer genius. In his youth he had looked for 
himself on the face of nature, and a brilliant fan- 
cy and classic education, with the rich scenery 
of his own sheltered valley, had prepared him 
well to enjoy the journey. We passed several 
Aveeks of the autumn of 1833 on the shore of 
that beautiful lake, where the ruins of the 
castle of the "Oneida Chief" are still to be 
seen. There is no portion of American scen- 
ery about which more fine old legends can 
be told. It witnessed many a hard strug- 
gle in our border wars between the French 
and the English ; and, still later, between the 

Vol. XL— I 



98 GLORV AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

English and their own kindred. Autumn had 
begun to spread its sober melancholy over the 
landscape, and the quiet shores were bathed in 
the yellow light of Indian summer. It was a 
grateful task for one who had from him whose 
steps he led learned to converse with nature in 
all her forms, to describe the scenery around 
us. I felt then how lofty a pleasure there is in 
"being eyes to the blind." 

Every day we wandered through the prime- 
val forests, and when we were tired we used 
to sit down under their solemn shades, among 
the falling leaves, and read " Gertrude of Wy- 
oming." It was in these thick woods, where 
we could hear no sounds but the song of the 
wild birds, or the squirrel cracking his nuts, 
away from the busy world, that I first felt the 
full power of Campbell's genius. 

When I had finished the relation of these 
circumstances, Campbell, who was standing by 
the window, came to the table, and taking my 
hand, pressed it warmly, saying, "God bless 
you, sir ; you make me happy^ although you 
make me weep. I can stand before my ene- 
mies, and no man ever saw me quail there; 
but, sir, you must forgive me now ; this is more 
than I can bear." 

We all sat in silence, for it seemed that one 
spoken word would dissolve the charm. Dr. 



CAMPBELLS AMERICAN READER. 99 

Beattie was the first to speak. " If this," said 
he, " is not the ' feast of reason and the flow 
of soul,' there is no such thing on earth." 

" Yes," said Campbell, " this is the flow of 
soul ; and it is dearer to me than all the praise I 
ever had before. I do confess it overcomes 
me to think, that in that wild American scen- 
ery, three thousand miles distant, I have had 
such readers, and all, too, among scenes I never 
witnessed myself. Doctor, I will go to Amer- 
ica yet. But don't forget, sir, to tell that blind 
friend of yours, that Campbell loves him as well 
as he loves Gertrude. One such pilgrimage as 
that is worth more to my old heart than the 
tallest monument. God forgive me ! I am not 
worthy of this ; but I enjoy it none the less." 

I asked him what part of the day he con- 
sidered most favourable to study. " This," 
he answered, " depends, I think, a good deal 
upon habit. But I am inclined to the opinion 
that even habit never can make any portion of 
the day so valuable to the scholar as the morn- 
ing. I have always found that I could ac- 
complish most at that time ; the thoughts are 
clearer and more natural, and the powers are 
fresh and vigorous. I have ever been an early 
riser, and done the chief part of my writing 
before breakfast. There is something in the 
stillness of the morning, particularly in town, 



100 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

which is favourable to intellectual exertion. 
And then, in the country, the grand charm of 
existence is in an early morning walk ; one's 
thoughts then are purer, one's feelings more spir- 
itual. I think I can tell the difference between 
a production written before and one written 
after breakfast ; particularly if I wrote it my- 
self r 

I inquired if he passed his time as pleasantly 
in London as in the country. He replied, 
" Why, sir, I like London well enough ; but 
then we can't always do as we would, you 
know. London is a great Maelstroom ; it ab- 
sorbs everything : the wealth, the business, the 
literature, the legislation, the books, the au- 
thors, the ladies, and, in short, the indispensa- 
ble appendages to an Englishman's existence, 
are all in London. A man may roam over 
the country for pleasure or health, but the first 
moment he undertakes to do anything else he 
must come up to London. Here you can find 
every comfort and luxury you could, should 
you roam the world over. Almost everybody 
worth seeing lives here ; or, at least, is in town 
during the season — a phrase which, you must 
have learned, has a strange signification." 

" I lived a good many years at Sydenham, 
a beautiful spot in Kent ; and would always 
have chosen to remain in the country ; but 



CAMPBELLS RELATIVES IN AMERICA. 101 

about twenty years ago I Avas obliged, in the ac- 
complishment of my literary projects, to follow 
the multitude, and take up my residence in the 
metropolis ; and I suppose I can't get away 
now ; nor do I think I should be able to exist 
away from my London friends : I am quite 
sure I couldn't live without seeing my good 
friend the Doctor, every day or two." 

Suddenly changing the current of conversa- 
tion, he exclaimed, with great warmth, " I love 
America very much, and I came very near be- 
ing an American myself. My father passed a 
portion of his early life in Virginia ; but for 
some reason or other, best known to himself 
I suppose, he returned to Europe before the 
Revolutionary War. My uncle, who accom- 
panied my father to America, adopted it as 
his country. One of his sons was district 
attorney under Washington's administration. 
Robert Campbell, my brother, settled in Vir- 
ginia, and married a daughter of your glorious 
Patrick Henry, who stood like a lighthouse 
of adamant in the Revolution. But Robert, 
poor fellow, died over thirty years ago. Yes, 
if I were not a Scotsman, I would like to be 
an American." 

The conversation then turned upon the au- 
thor of the " Pickwick ' Papers ;" Campbell 
withdrew to write for me a note of introduction 
12 



102 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

to Dickens ; and while he was gone Dr. Beat- 
tie related to me some interesting facts in the 
history of the poet's life. 

" When Campbell was twelve years old he 
entered the University of Glasgow, and im- 
mediately distinguished himself. The follow- 
ing year he carried the prize from the best 
scholar in the University, and gained a bursary. 
The exercise was a translation of one of the 
comedies of Aristophanes. His rival was near- 
ly twice his own age. His second prize effort 
w^as a translation of a tragedy of ^schylus, 
which he gained without a rival. These trans- 
lations were both in finished verse. During 
the seven years he remained at the University, 
he was uniformly the successful candidate ; 
and when he received his last prize, his Greek 
professor publicly pronounced it the best pro- 
duction that had ever been written in the Uni- 
versity. 

" Campbell was desired by many of his ad- 
mirers to enter a profession ; but his love for 
poetry and belle-lettres gave his pursuits an- 
other direction. He passed a considerable 
time, after leaving Glasgow, among the ro- 
mantic hills of Argyleshire. Here his poetical 
spirit increased in energy, and the charms of 
verse took entire possession of his mind. 
There are many people there still who will te]J 



DR. BEATTIE's account OF CAMPBELL. 103 

you about young Campbell's wandering alone 
over the scenery of that wild country, reciting 
the strains of other poets aloud, or silently com- 
posing his own. Several of his pieces written 
at that time, which he has never considered 
worthy of a place in his published works, are 
to this day handed about in Scotland in manu- 
script. ' The Dirge of Wallace,' which is not 
found in the London edition of his poems, is 
one of these wild compositions. Campbell is 
very sensitive about all he publishes, and he 
has written many pieces much admired by his 
friends, upon which he places no value. 

" From Argyleshire he removed to Edin- 
burgh, where he was immediately brought into 
notice, and became familiar with the most cel- 
ebrated men who at that period ornamented 
the Scottish capital. Here he enjoyed the 
friendship and attention of some of the first 
men of the age. Under these favourable cir- 
cumstances he brought out his ' Pleasures of 
Hope' at the age of twenty-one ; and where is 
there another instance of a poem which com- 
bines so much pure philosophy, classic beauty, 
and moral grandeur, written at so early an age ? 
It was an almost miraculous performance ! 

" After residing two or three years in Edin- 
burgh be went to the Continent. He travelled 
over K greater part of Germany and Prussia, 



104 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

visiting the universities, studying German liter- 
ature, and conversing with distinguished men. 
He cherishes a great admiration for some of 
his Continental friends, and often speaks of the 
two Schlegels and the venerable Klopstock, 
who died soon after he saw him. During this 
period he studied intensely, and accumulated 
immense intellectual treasures, which have 
since enriched all his works and conversations. 

"It is an interesting fact, that while he was 
at Vienna, an edition of his ' Pleasures of 
Hope,' proposed for publication by his friends, 
was forbidden by the court, on account of that 
glorious passage which relates to Kosciusko 
and the fail of Poland. It was in Hamburgh 
that Campbell fell in with some of the Irish 
exiles, whose enthusiasm, with their sincerity 
and misfortunes, inspired him to write that 
touching piece, ' The Exile of Erin.' It was 
set to an old Irish air, and will perish, of course, 
only with the wreck of the language. 

" He stood on the walls of a convent with 
the monks, and overlooked the bloody field of 
Hohenlinden. His ' Battle of Hohenlinden' 
was written at that time, and a part of it on the 
convent walls : it almost atones for the horrors 
of that sanguinary day. Its grandeur and mar- 
tial sublimity certainly exceed everything of 
the kind in the English language. 



BREAKFAST WITH CAMPBELL. 105 

" On his return from the Continent he vis- 
ited London for the first time, where he found 
his fame greater than in any other part of the 
world. He became the leading star of the lit- 
erary circles in the metropolis. Soon after, he 
married Miss Sinclair, a lady of Scottish an- 
cestry, and celebrated for her personal beauty. 
He spent the happiest part of his life in his 
quiet retreat at Sydenham, surrounded by the 
charities of a sweet home. Here he wrote his 
great work, ' Gertrude of Wyoming.' But he 
was drawn from this retreat to London, where 
he has since been steadily enriching the liter- 
ature of our language with works which will go 
down to the latest times." At this moment 
Campbell returned with his letter to Dickens. 



On the morning appointed, I called to break- 
fast with the author of " O'Connor's Child." 
His rooms are on the second floor of a fine 
house in Lincoln's Lin-Fields. He met me at 
the street gate, and seemed to be in genuine 
"poetic mood." He was dressed in a blue 
. coat, white pantaloons and waistcoat, and light 
blue cravat. 

" I am glad to see you," said he, offering to 
pay my coachman his fee (a courtesy often ex- 
tended by gentlemen here to their guests). 
'' Last night I let my fancy play all over your 



106 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

continent, from Plymouth Rock to the shores 
of the Pacific. I thought of ten thousand 
things I wanted to talk with you about, though 
I presume they have all gone out of my foolish 
head before now. But we can find something 
to talk of, I fancy, when we get a cup of cof- 
fee, and the Doctor sits down with us." 

He took me into his library, a large room 
looking out upon a beautiful green garden in 
the rear of the house. I could describe every- 
thing! have seen in London better than Camp- 
bell's study. There is an air of inspiration 
about it; everything is in the most glorious, 
hap-hazard confusion. In entering it, I at 
once felt perfectly at ease, for everything was 
perfectly at ease around me. Before the grate 
lay the skin of a huge African tiger, which he 
brought from Algiers (shot by himself, I think 
he said), the ears, tail, &c., all there, and the 
spots as bright as life. It makes a very poeti- 
cal rug, of course. 

"That rug, sir !" said he; "why I think 
more of that rug than I should of a Devonshire 
estate. Why, sir, when I sit down to my old 
table here, I find a never-failing source of in- 
spiration in that tiger skin. I prize it almost 
as highly as I do my own." On the mantel- 
piece is quite an extensive museum : Indian ar- 
rows, minerals, and other curiosities from the 



Campbell's library. 107 

Valley of Wyoming, &c. His library is large, 
ftnd contains a great number of choice works 
m different languages. He showed me a copy 
of every edition of his works which has ever 
been published in England, America, or on the 
Continent. I do not remember the exact num- 
ber of editions, but it was very great. 

The walls are hung with old pictures, some 
of which are of great value. I observed, 
among others, the fine engraving of the Queen 
after Sully's painting. He told me, that when 
the illustrated edition of his poems was publish- 
ed (which is one of the most beautifully exe- 
cuted works that ever came from the London 
press), he sent a copy of it to her Majesty; and 
she, in return, was graciously pleased to present 
him this picture, with her own autograph at the 
bottom. 

The doctor came, and Campbell called his 
servant to prepare breakfast. In a few mo- 
ments it was brought in, and the servant left the 
room. We took our seats at the little round 
table, which stood in the centre of the library. 
The breakfast-table is the place to meet an 
Englishman ; all the etiquette of fashion and pa- 
rade is there laid aside ; it is a confidential, sim- 
ple, and unceremonious meal, almost the only 
place where you come in contact with the Eng- 
lish heart. 



lOS GLORY AND SHMAE OF ENGLAND. 

" Here, gentlemen," said our host, " is cof- 
fee and tea, dry toast, boiled eggs, and the 
glory of the Scotch table, a cup of marmalade ; 
all very simple. I never make a parade ; I 
don't like it. But then there is one thing here 
you must praise. I told a good old Scotch 
aunt of mine I was to have two friends break- 
fast with me this morning, and she must make a 
Scotch pie, such as we used to eat in Edin- 
burgh and among the old hills of Argyleshire ; 
and you see she has sent it down to me." 

Campbell did the honours of the table with 
all the enthusiasm of the poet. Poured oiu: 
coffee ; told us anecdotes ; talked about Scot- 
land, Walter Scott, Burns, and Wallace. I felt 
that it was the best hour of my life. In our 
conversation an allusion was made to Aaron 
Burr. " Burr, I think," said he, " must have 
been one of the most splendid men in the 
world : his power of diplomacy and intrigue 
was unbounded ; but he was a lieartless liber- 
tine. If ever a man went into the eternal 
world with the deep damnation of blood on his 
soul, that man was Aaron Burr. I never could 
forgive him for murdering Hamilton. You 
have never had many men in America for 
whom I feel so great a reverence as for Ham- 
ilton. Poor man ! what strange infatuation 
could have driven him on to sacrifice himself ?" 



England's treatment of her authors. 109 

Campbell feels a deep interest in the In- 
dian races of America. "The world never 
will forget your treatment of the poor Indians," 
said he. " How they have faded away before 
the advance of the white man ! I think there 
cannot be a more melancholy spectacle than to 
see some brave chief come back in his old age 
from beyond the great Mississippi, where you 
have driven him, to break his bowstring over 
the graves of his fathers ; to see the broad fields 
that once belonged to his ancestors, where they 
used to chase the wild deer in the deep woods, 
and find these tall forests cut down, and these 
fields in the hands of his pale-faced conquer- 
ors ! I think I should feel, to see such an old 
Indian standing on some green hilltop of New- 
England, as I should to see a fine column erect 
among the ruins of an old empire." 

We conversed some time about poor au- 
thors. " England," said he, " is very remark- 
able for one thing — more so, perhaps, than any 
other nation. She starves her authors to death, 
and then deifies them, and makes pilgrimages 
to their shrines. For my part, I should think 
it a better arrangement to expend a part of the 
money their posthumous admirers lavish upon 
their tombs, in giving them bread and butter, 
which poets stand in no less need of than their 
less ethereal worshippers. An author must be 

Vol,. II.— K 



110 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ethereal indeed, not to grow hungry upon no- 
thing nriore substantial than the breath of the 
multitude." 

At one period of his life Campbell suffered 
from poverty ; but he is understood at present 
to be in the enjoyment of an ample fortune, 
which he has recently come in possession of by 
the death of a relative. He is now writing the 
last pages of his Life of Petrarch, in which he 
has been for many years engaged. 

There are three men in America for whom 
he cherishes the highest admiration — Channing, 
Irving, and Bryant. Of Channing he said, " Of 
course, I express no opinion of his theology — I 
do not understand these matters — but of his 
style. I consider him superior, as a prose writer, 
to every other living author. I have read that 
work of Channing you handed me the other 
day (his book on slavery). It is a glorious 
production — what simplicity of eloquence and 
ratiocination ! When I finished it, I exclaimed, 
in the words which Chatterton puts in the mouth 
of Edward respecting Sir Charles Bawdin, 

' The man is right— he speaks the truth — 
He's greater than a king.' 

" Irving is a most charming writer. There 
is great beauty, pure classic taste, and refined 
sensibility in everything from his pen. Some of 
his sketches are the most beautiful and affecting 



HIS OPINION OF CHANNING, IRVING, ETC. Ill 

productions ever written. He has not the 
power, the eloquence of Channing ; in these 
two respects Channing has no rival. But, if 
Irving could not have written Channing's Sla- 
very, Channing never could have written Ir- 
ving's ' Broken Heart.' There are chords in 
the heart which neither can touch alone ; but I 
believe there is no passion of the soul that will 
not be deeply stirred in reading the works of 
both — they are very great men. 

" Bryant I esteem your greatest poet. I have 
always been astonished that he has not written 
some more extended work. He could sustam 
himself, I think, through a great poem ; but 
some of his pieces are the best ever written in 
America. His Thanatopsis is his finest pro- 
duction : he has never equalled it, and no man 
can excel it. I never read the closing lines of 
the Thanatopsis without being, I think, a better 
man. There is in them a spirit of kindness 
which bears the fine moral to the depths of the 
heart : 

' So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon ; but, sustain'd and sooth'd 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave. 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreama.' 



112 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" Is it not Strange that the man who can 
write such lines as these should content him- 
self to sit down in a dirty office, and edit a po- 
litical newspaper in New- York ?" 

I inquired his opinion of Mrs. Sigourney. 
He had never heard of her ! " But," said he, 
" that is not the slightest evidence she is not a 
fine or a distinguished writer, for I have be- 
come quite an ignoramus about the literary 
matters of the present day. I am more famil- 
iar with those of the last generation ; but, after 
what you have said of her writings, I will cer- 
tainly get her book and read it. 

" I have often admired Halleck's Marco Bot- 
zaris ; that is a very stirring and beautiful piece. 
Drake's American Flag is fine ; and Whittier 
has written some most excellent pieces. So 
have Pierpont and Dana ; but you seem to 
have had no great poet. Your poetical genius, 
ike your wealth and liberty, seems diffused 
ver the whole population ; for I hear that 
every American writes poetry." 

Campbell understands this matter better than 
lost Englishmen ; and this single remark of 
his is a key to American character. I do not 
believe there is a country on earth where the 
poetical spirit so generally prevails as in Amer- 
ica. The grandeur of nature in all her forms, 
the wild and primeval aspect of the country, 



POETICAL SPIRIT OF AMERICA. 113 

waken a deep enthusiasm in the hearts of all 
the people. It is generally supposed in Europe 
that we are only a business nation ; that we 
have little time left from the labours of subdu- 
ing an interminable forest, for the arts or graces 
of refined life ; that we care for nothing but 
money. 

But it has always been said that the early 
history of every nation is more characterized 
by poetry and enthusiasm than any other pe- 
riod. It was so with Ancient Nations. The 
full glow of civilization, in all its artificial 
splendour, is unfavourable to romance. 

" When a general intercourse in society pre- 
vails, the age of great genius has passed, and 
equality of talents rages among a multitude of 
authors and artists : they have extended the 
superficies of genius, but have lost the intensity; 
the contest is more furious, but victory is more 
rare. The master-spirits who create an epoch " 
the inventors, lived at periods when they in 
herited nothing from their predecessors ; in se- 
clusion they stood apart, the solitary lights of 
their age. At length, when a people hav(- 
emerged to glory, and a silent revolution has 
obtained by a more uniform light of knowledge 
coming from all sides, tTie genius of society be- 
comes greater than the genius of the individ- 
ual ; hence the character of genius itself be- 
K2 



114 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND, 

comes subordinate. A conversation age suc- 
ceeds a studious one, and the family of genius 
are no longer recluses. * * It is only in soli- 
tude that the genius of eminent men has been 
formed : solitude is the nurse of enthusiasm, 
and enthusiasm is the true parent of genius ; 
in all ages it has been called for, it has been 
flown to. No considerable work was ever 
composed but its author, like an ancient ma- 
gician, first retired to the grove or the closet 
to invocate. There is society in the deepest 
solitude; and there only can men of genius in- 
dulge in the romances of their souls — their 
dreams and their vigils, and, with the morning, 
fly without interruption to the labour they had 
so reluctantly quitted." These or similar words, 
if I remember right, are used by the elder D'ls- 
raeli : they are not only beautiful, but true. 

This paragraph, I think, sufficiently accounts 
for the fact that we have never had our great 
poet. But there are causes which have a ten- 
d,ency to inspire enthusiasm in the hearts of the 
American people Avhich do not exist in any 
other land. It is probably true, that the char- 
acter of a nation's literature depends, in a great 
measure, upon its government. A despotic 
government, while it crushes the mass, always 
elevates the few. This favoured class possess 
all the wealth and enjoy all the privileges ; the 



SOLI UDE FAVOURABLE TO GENIUS. 115 

genius and intellectual culture are confined 
within as narrow a circle as the wealth. Nei- 
ther Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, nor Milton 
would have produced their mighty works if 
they had lived under popular influences — un- 
der the operation of republican institutions ; for 
such institutions operate so equally for the ele- 
vation of all, that there is a natural tendency in 
the mind of the country to form itself upon the 
same general model. Great inequalities in 
condition do not exist, and there will be the 
same general equality in intellect. 

But when genius shuts itself up from the 
world, and breathes an atmosphere in which the 
mass never mingle, it is left to the inspiration 
of solitude — to its own lofty self-communings. 
It is only in such solitude that the mind attains 
its loftiest and most original character. Under 
the pure teachings of great Nature, genius marks 
out a path for itself. Perhaps in his solitary 
chamber, " lit by stars," you find not a book 
upon the scholar's table : nature is the only vol- 
ume he reads. Thrown upon his own unas- 
sisted powers, he achieves what he never could 
have accomplished in a library, or in mingling 
with the herd of his brother men. He finds 
himself alone in the wide fields of nature ; he 
makes a way for himself, and all who come 
after him follow in his steps. In this way the 
genius of all great authors has been formed. 



116 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

But who would not give up an author that 
can be gained only once a century perhaps, 
to see the mass of a great people, among 
whom the genius of these mighty minds is dif- 
fused, rising to a high and pure elevation ? If 
we have not a Shakspeare, a Bacon, or a Dan- 
te, neither have we, thanks to kind Fortune, 
the millions of debased and ignorant beings 
around us that Shakspeare, and Bacon, and 
Dante heard crying for bread, and breathing 
out their heavy groans under the throne of tyr- 
anny. 

How cheering to turn away from the night 
of Old- World barbarism, whose masses were 
unillumined except by a few bright stars which 
shone only for themselves, in a high and dis- 
tant heaven, to the New- Wild-Free- World ! 
Every American child grows up in the school 
of Nature, where Art mingles just enough with 
her spirit to leave him free to form a natural 
character. 

It is while the early settler is still surrounded 
with the solemn forests, that he communes 
most steadily and intimately with Heaven ; for, 
go where you will, you will find that the man 
who is most constantly under the influence of 
nature, possesses the most enthusiasm. 

All Europe could not produce one such char- 
acter as Cooper's favourite hero, whom he has 



ANTIQUITIES OF AMERICA. 117 

now conducted, with never-failing interest, 
through the Last of the Mohicans, the Pio- 
neers, the Prairie, the Pathfinder [and, last of 
all, we meet our old friend in the Deer Slayer], 
with his wild, Hntameable, but childlike heart, 
fresh and generous as ever. 

This is a fiction, it is true ; but none the less 
true to nature is Pathfinder for all that. Every 
American who is familiar with the history of 
his country (and show me one who is not, or, 
indeed, one who does not understand England 
and her history better than the great mass of 
Englishmen themselves), every American who 
has roamed through our great Western forests 
(and what American has not gone beyond the 
Ohio ?), recognises in that admire^ble character 
the representation of a great class of his own 
countrymen. • 

Besides, we have our antiquities, and our 
monuments of past ages, scattered, like fallen 
columns, thick over the continent. We have 
no damp, crumbling monasteries and castles 
around which old legends linger (generally fic- 
tions invented by lovers of the marvellous), 
through whose desolate halls you can hear 
only the sepulchral voices of pale vergers and 
withered monks, " counting their beads and 
pattering prayer ;" but we have the ruins of 
old empires, over which the dust of antiquity 



118 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

gathered long before Julius Csesar landed on 
the shores of Britain — ruins still to be seen. 

The races which have preceded us raised 
their tumuli and dug out mountain caves. 
They erected vast fortifications against their en- 
emies, and temples to their gods ; and the re- 
mains of these vrorks are still met with by the 
traveller. We have, too, those wide grassy 
plains, for which " the speech of England has 
no name" — the Prairies — 

" The Gardens of the Desert these, 
The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful." 

And we have the sublimity of the wilderness, 
from which the " hand of nature never has been 
lifted." 

I remembei:, some years ago, in passing up 
the Mississippi in company with an educated 
young Englishman, that we frequently scared 
up the wild deer on the banks by the noise of our 
steamer. "I'd rather by far," said he, "see 
this spectacle," as the animals dashed away 
into the forest, " than the fairest scene in the Old 
World." We sometimes sailed fifty miles 
without seeing a sign of civilization; all around 
us was the repose and grandeur of solemn na- 
ture. " We cannot enjoy this in England," 
said he. " We have our parks and our deer ; 
but they are not the wild, free creatures we 
see here, who can roam through your parks for 
thousands of miles." 



MAGNIFICENCE OF AMERICAN SCENERY. 119 

The magnificence of our scenery is confessed 
by all ; but Europeans have often alleged it as a 
grand defect, that we are without those associa- 
tions of the pas'!; which mingle with our contem- 
plation of the scenery of the Old World : no 
Shakspeare is buried on the banks of one of 
our streams ; we have no gray towers, or castles, 
or convent bells. Still a thousand wild, beauti- 
ful legends are told of the early settlers on our 
frontiers ; and " the great struggle for freedom 
has sanctified many a spot;" but, above all, 
liberty dwells in the hearts of our people. 

In walking through the narrow and filthy 
lanes of the large manufacturing towns in Eng- 
land, I have seen thousands of pale, hungry, 
ragged children, flocking to the mills while it 
Avas yet early morning ; and that numerous 
class not yet able to work ; and I could not 
but contrast these unfortunate children, com- 
pelled to labour through childhood and youth, 
on to old age (if, indeed, they did not meet 
the better lot to die while young), with tht^ 
cheerful boys and girls of New-England, who 
rise from long, healthful sleep with free hearts, 
and wander away with full stomachs to the dis- 
trict schoolhouse. 

I only wish my countrymen would feel more 
grateful for the inestimable blessings of their 
own free land. I am every day more and 
more deeply impressed with the belief that 



120 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

there has never yet been, an age or a country 
in which such high facilities were afforded for 
accomplishing the great objects of human ex- 
istence ; for making life so valuable. 

It would be strange, indeed, if America had 
not many good poets ; but still stranger, if she 
had one f^reat one. 



[The day before I left London I called to 
see Campbell for the last time. We passed an 
hour together in his library. He was cheerful 
and kind as ever. " For your sake, I am glad 
you are going home," he said ; " for my own, I 
am sorry ; for you have made a bright spot in 
Campbell's life. But how can you have stayed 
away from home so long ? Oh ! what a word 
that is ! Home ! 

" Here is a copy of the illustrated edition of 
my poems ; take it with you ; and if, with your 
Gertrude, you ever go again to the Valley of 
Wyoming, it may be a pleasure to her to hear 
you say, ' Campbell gave me this !' Farewell, 
sir ; and God bless you with a safe and pros- 
perous voyage." 

He shook my hand heartily, and we parted 
at the door.] 

Pardon, sir, so long a letter, and accept as- 
surances of regard from 

Your faithful servant, 

C. Edwards Lester. 



LETTER TO A NEW-YORKER. 121 



To , Esq., of New -York. 

London, 1840. 

Sir, — I HAVE been told that some years ago 

you lived in one of the elegant houses of L 

Place; sported your coach and four, with ser- 
vants in livery ; made a turn-out in Broadway 
every evening at six, for the special benefit of 
the street-gazers of all characters and no char- 
acters at all, who crowd this great promenade 
of our metropolis ; that you were the leader of 
fashion, the " lion" of every party "up town ;" 
gave the finest entertainments New- York had 
ever seen, with the new and superb attraction 
of theatrical dancers and musicians ; that you 
were in our world of fashion the " observed of 
all observers ;" in fine, a sort of second, but 
not improved, edition of Count D'Orsay. 

It is understood that this was your reputation 
just before the "Specie Circular" made its ap- 
pearance. But since that great era in the his- 
tory of American finance, you have, in some 
very mysterious way, disappeared from the 
bon ton, and left your post of honour to be fill- 
ed by some other personage, who, like yourself, 
shall be able to flutter in the plumage of " fol- 
ly's giddy throng," so long as his credit lasts ; 
and then, like his illustrious predecessor, take 

Vol. II.—L 



128 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

a house in Greenwich-street, and measure off 
tape behind a counter in Maiden Lane. 

I have also been told you have been heard 
to say that you " had rather be invited to Al- 
mack's once than to be president of the Ameri- 
can Republic." I believe, however, that yom 
wish has never been gratified, to mingle in the 
splendid circles of those rich saloons ; and since 
you think so much more of Almack's than you 
do of the presidency, I have thought it might be 
grateful to your feelings to hear a word about 
it ; and then, if the glorious days of universal 
credit shall again appear in our land of liberty, 
you may be able to establish an Almack's for 
New- York ; and my observations in this letter 
will be of signal advantage to you in carrying 
into execution so philanthropic a design ; for the 
" American London" would rank you forever 
among its benefactors, if you should perform 
so distinguished a service for its circles of fash 
ion and rank. 

A few evenings since, after being present ai 

a musical soiree at Lord 's, as I was pass 

ing through King-street, St. James, I heard 
two gentlemen conversing about the last ball at 
Almack's. I had often heard of Almack's, but 
I knew very little about it. Since then I have, 
from various sources, gathered the following in- 
formation concerning this "Temple of Fash- 
ion." 



ACCOUNT OF ALMACK's. 123 

It is a ^lace where the very soul of enlight- 
ened society centres; where the most splendid 
and noble of the noblest aristocracy of the no- 
blest and most enlightened nation of the earth 
assemble ; where the spiritual and ineffable 
quintessence of the sublimate of fashion, re- 
fined from the clarified essence of wealth and 
rank, is collected in one hot and luminous fo- 
cus. It is, in fact, to London what London 
is to England, what England is to the civil- 
ized Avorld : a place, in short, to which the 
most ancient and honourable nobility look 
with reverence ; nobility whose ancestry can 
be traced back in one bright chain of fox- 
hunters to the Norman conquest, or the times 
of the Saxon Heptarchy ; for this is an es- 
tablishment to which age and old time must do 
honour ; the very temple, and, as it were, the 
most holy place of fashion. 

How many robes of passing splendour have 
swept over the threshold of this sacred taber- 
nacle, none but the recording angel can tell. 
For nearly a century now its halls have been 
illustrated year after year, and month after 
month, with all that England could crowd to- 
gether of brilliancy and opulence. Nothing 
low or vulgar has ever approached the hallow- 
ed verge of its consecrated precincts : Procul ! 
O procul I este profani ! 



124 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 



There are mysteries here not to be gazed on 
by common eyes : a few Starred Sibyls (look 
ing marvellously like English females with the 
yellow hair of Saxony yet on their brows) have 
established certain unearthly rites and cere- 
monies in King-street, St. James, to the full 
understanding of which none but the titled elect 
are admitted ; and who are required to live 
sublimely apart from the rest of the world, from 
which they are separated by a barrier as broad 
and impassable as the Sahara Desert. The 
happy few, the priestesses of the temple, exer- 
cise an absolute authority over all its affairs, 
and are unbending in the execution of their 
decrees. The proudest and most antique ti- 
tles cannot avail against them ; for they, too, 
have received their authority from prescription. 
Their favour is worth more than all other hon- 
ours, for it comprehends these, and unspeaka- 
bly more. To be admitted to Almack's is to 
be above all. solicitude for character, titles, or 
wealth ; for admission here presupposes all 
these, and, moreover, is of itself so vast an ele- 
vation in public consideration, that all others 
may at once be lost sight of and forgotten. 

The Ladies-Patronesses are themselves be- 
yond the reach of envy, and hold their author 
ity by a tenure which can neither be disputed 
nor dissolved. They are the divinities to be 



1 



ACCOUNT OF ALMACk's. 125 

propitiated by all who would meet with suc- 
cess or consideration in the fashionable world. 
Their power is suspended over the heads of 
all, and they can in one moment strike from 
the galaxy of fashion the brightest and loftiest 
luminary there ; and even this, all but the fall- 
en will approve, for it serves only to purify and 
refine the circle whence they have been taken. 
When once precipitated from this eminence, 
nothing they have can avail them in their dis- 
grace ; the trappings and stars of ancient no- 
bility have lost their lustre, and reflect but a 
flickering ray, compared with the brilliant 
light and eclat issuing from the saloons of Al- 
mack's. These female divinities, who hold the 
scissors, and sometimes the thread of fate, 
designate those who are to succeed them in 
their sacred function ; and as one of their num- 
ber is fading away from existence, they look 
for some happy mortal to take the sublime 
seat she is just about to exchange for the " nar- 
row house." In short, when one of the six 
elderly duchesses, countesses, or marchion- 
esses, happens to die, the remaining five fill up 
the void ; and thus the priesthood, or, rather, 
the priestesshood, lives on in a sort of corpo- 
rate immortality ; and the long life of the es- 
tablishment is made up of the odd fragments of 
the lives of divers ancient females, who, in the 
L2 



126 GLORW AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

course of Providence, or by electioneering ar- 
tifices, have been elevated to preside over this 
University of West-Endism. 

It cannot be said, indeed, that these appoint- 
ments are always made without contention, ri- 
valry, and heart-burnings : this would be too 
much to expect, even of the divinities of Al- 
mack's enchanted halls ; since the honour is so 
high that none but the tamest and most ignoble 
spirits would be wanting in ambition to aspire 
to it. Where the fate of the present, and, per- 
haps, a succeeding generation of fair ladies 
and dashing beaux is made subject to and de- 
pendant on the favour of a Synod of six Ladies- 
Patronesses, who would not wish to be a sharer 
in such fulness of power, and thus be placed 
beyond all the evils of life ? 

When a seat becomes vacant by death, a 
struggle worthy of so great a prize commences ; 
and among the remaining five, bitterness and 
reviling do sometimes make their unholy way. 
One cannot give up the suit of a " very dear 
friend," whose face she has long hoped to see 
in effulgence and honour, at " the Board of 
Red Cloth." Another has formed fond antici- 
pations of seeing the companion of her early 
life raised to the sacred office, which she her- 
self now fills, and doing honour to the associ- 
ates with whom she would then mingle. 



ACCOUNT OF ALMACKS. 127 

In short, each one has her antipathies and 
preferences, and is anxious to secure for her 
protegee the vacant seat : whence originate sus- 
picions and jealousies, rivalships and back- 
bitings ; whence come artifice and intrigue, 
and the marshalling of every motive of fear, 
interest, love, resentment, and ambition, that 
can possibly weigh upon the suffrages of those 
who are to decide. It would be unfair to re- 
gard their deportment on these momentous oc- 
casions as indicating their general character. 
What though words of dark and dubious mean- 
ing do sometimes escape from their lips ; and 
what though epithets which would better be- 
come the brawls of the streets, and the bandy- 
ings of kitchen heroines, should, in moments 
of trial, be liberally applied to the characters 
of these staid and haughty regents ; yet such 
are but occasional outpourings, and doubtless 
only introduced to fill up the vacancies and in- 
terstices of sublimer contemplations. 

Of course, they who would insinuate that 
such contentions and rivalships do always se- 
cretly exist, but are never visible except on 
these great occasions, do so of their own un- 
advised foolhardiness and malice aforethought. 
These Guardians of the sacredness of fashion's 
circle have enough to do in keeping perpetual 
vigils, that none invade their halls who have 



128 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND, 



m 



not passed the purifying ordeal. To them is 
committed the keeping of the golden fleece; 
and they are to guard it with a wakefulness 
which no power of herbs can ever lull. Those 
gifted with such small accomplishments as na- 
ture can bestow, apply in vain for admission 
here, unless they have some more powerful tal- 
isman to enforce their claims ; there must be ti- 
tled rank, and rank untarnished by poverty. 

This, you will say, is all delicious ! It is, 
indeed. It does your republican heart good, I 
doubt not, to think there is one place where the 
favoured few are above the reach of those low 
vulgarities which infest the dead levels of de- 
mocracy. 

And what think you, dear sir, is done within 
the precincts of so much exclusiveness ? Why 
here the great, or, rather, the favoured ones, be- 
come accustomed to each other's society ; and 
there being no other enterprise on earth worthy 
the attention of the English aristocracy, they, 
like wise men, have created this object of am- 
bition to prevent their noble faculties from rust- 
ing out in the coarse and trivial pursuits of ordi- 
nary life. They must have something to do ; 
for even noblemen and kings have not yet suc- 
ceeded in taking out a patent for a happy do- 
nothing profession. So they busy themselves 
first in gaining admittance at Almack's, and then 
in luxuriating upon their hard- won honours. 



ACCOUNT OF ALMACKS. 129 

After days, and nights, and weeks, and 
months of management and anxiety, with trem- 
bling hands and fainting hearts, they send up to 
the awful scrutiny of the Judgesses their re- 
spectful supplication. I think you cannot but 
envy the delectable state of their feelings — the 
flutterings of hope and fear they now experi- 
ence. 

The oracle is not long silent ; the responses, 
inscribed on triangular billets, are scattered, 
like Sibyls' leaves, among those whose fate they 
are to decide ; and then there are smiles, and 
self-gratulation, and rejoicing, and exultation 
with some ; and frowns, and tears, and disap- 
pointment, and rage with others. 

Dear sir, can you conceive how it is pos- 
sible to live after being rejected ? It is very 
certain that ordinary eating, and drinking, and 
sleeping, and breathing are not the chief essen- 
tials to life ; for the smiles of the rich and the 
Almack-favoured are worth more than all these 
for the purposes of living, at least good living, 
to the applicants at this ineffable Court. To 
the young and ambitious among the gay and 
opulent of London, rejection comes like a sen- 
tence of banishment from the very light of life. 
All other places of fashionable resort are re- 
garded only as faint and wretched imitations 
of this sublime original. More than one in- 
stance has been known of such rejection pro- 



130 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ducing death by the rupture of a bloodvessel 
in some exquisite young lady's bosom (perfectly 
horrible, you will say ! ) ; or a fate little less pain- 
ful has awaited the angelic-disappointed, of fa- 
ding away by the slow poison of chagrin and 
gloom. 

Young gentlemen, when overtaken by this 
dreadful calamity, generally blow out what 
brains they have with a pistol, or, in failure of 
this, devote them to the less romantic end of 
writing poetry. Ah ! sir, it is quite gratify- 
ing to me to know, while writing these para- 
graphs, that they will excite in your sensitive 
heart high and generous emotions, suited to so 
touching a theme. 

In a spacious saloon, with all the unostenta- 
tious elegance which wealth, rank, and taste 
can bestow, is assembled, beneath brilliant 
lamps, and reclining on voluptuous sofas, the 
cream of all the beauty and gallantry of Eng- 
land. Precious stones are flashing in the light ; 
and bright eyes sparkling, and flushed cheeks 
glowing on every side. Here a whisper of 
musical voices is heard in the soft murmur of 
confidence ; and there words of gallantry, and 
flattery, and gentleness insensibly melt into 
sighs. 

Forms of chiseled gracefulness are gliding 
about; and when the sound of music begins to 



ACCOUNT OF ALMACk's. 1^1 

creep over the scene, swelling, and dying away 
like the breath of evening, light footsteps are 
heard just audibly to rustle, and fairy fingers, 
floating on the waves of the mazy dance, beat 
softly to the pulse of melody. 

The young and blushing countess is flutter- 
ing by the side of the dashing captain ; and 
ever and anon, as her white hand touches his, 
a thrill of delight passes over her form. There, 
a boy, who would be esteemed awkward if he 
had not lately come to a dukedom, is blun- 
dering and swelling before a proud beauty, 
whose heart rebels against maternal injunc- 
tions, and spurns with contempt the clumsy 
attentions of her vain admirer ; and by their 
side a graceful Premier is moving gallantly to 
the voluptuous waltz of a high-born, youthful 
duchess. Yonder is a prudent mother, whose 
schemes in providing her daughter with an ad- 
vantageous settlement have all been frustrated, 
and in whose guarded countenance jealousy 
and chagrin are but half concealed. Here 
glances by the form of a young marchioness — 
and such a form ! — swelling with exultation and 
triumph as she bears away from her tearful ri- 
val a young and gallant fortune. 

In this place is never heard the sound of 
loud mirth and hilarity ; all is gentle and regu- 
lated ; every emotion is subdued ; and what- 



132 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ever it be, it is expressed on the countenance 
only by a smile. Here every one is bent upon 
conquest ; and every avenue in the heart is 
guarded with unrelenting severity. I scarce 
need tell one so familiar with the gay world as 
yourself, that all this is necessary. 

But still, there are scenes here occasionally, 
which in other assemblies would excite some- 
thing more than a smile. Around the dancing 
arena, a rope is drawn for the purpose of pre- 
venting encroachments upon those within, not 
very unlike what you may have seen in your 
plebeian days at a menagerie ; and the " per- 
fumed courtiers" lead their exquisite partners 
into the ring, as in the afore-mentioned days 
you may have observed the Shetland pony 
led in by Dandy Jack. It sometimes happens 
in the flush and excitement of the g-allopape 
(for the gallopade and waltz are now the only 
things danced at Almack's ; though Lord By- 
ron, whose moral tastes have never been con- 
demned for their purity, thought the waltz 
should be banished from virtuous society), that 
cases are not unfrequent, in the full tide of the 
dance, of the more spirited beaux dashing 
themselves carelessly against the rope, and by 
the rebound being thrown prostrate upon the 
floor. 

This, of itself, would be but a slight misfor- 



ACCOUNT OF ALMACk's, 133 

tune ; but it is often followed by others of a 
more serious nature. Those nearest the fall- 
en dancer are not always able to stop them- 
selves at once upon the polished floor, and 
frequently numbers of young ladies are either 
dragged down by their companions (for it is 
proverbial that a sinking man will hold fast to 
a trifle), or stumble over those already fallen. 

Here, then, is a delightful scene for the staid 
gravity of the assembly : duchesses, marchion- 
esses, captains, dukes, and premiers, all huddled 
together in one grand promiscuous pile of — 
rank and beauty. Slight screams are heard ; 
and blushes, and smiles, and tears are seen 
confusedly mingling in the faces of the scram- 
bling unfortunates. Some hitherto slighted ri- 
val exults in the sudden shame of her torment- 
or ; while the fallen ones retire from the ring 
in the deepest mortification and chagrin. The 
music, arrested for a moment by the confusion, 
now breaks forth again in voluptuous softness, 
and the rustle of flying feet begins again to steal 
upon the ear. 

Such scenes as this are at times witnessed in 
these famous saloons, where the severity of ele- 
gance has banished all ostentation of wealth. 
The simplicity of its entertainments excludes 
all idea of luxury, and almost of comfort. Of 
course, gaudiness is not tolerated here, for that 

Vol. II.— M 



134 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

is something which those who have no other 
recommendation than mere gold (a vulgar thingj 
can put on. But it is not the society, or the in- 
tercourse, which gives value to an admission to 
this circle : the very fact of admission is all that 
is prized, as this is a tacit awurd of eminence 
in the world of fashion. It \h a sort of test to 
try the purity of nobility, whether it be the un- 
alloyed ancient metal, or only a showy com- 
pound of modern times. It separates the for- 
mer from the latter by a broad and plain line 
of distinction. The young and the sanguine 
are here brought together, and matrimonial al- 
liances are rarely formed out of the exclusive 
circle in which they move. Thus is an aristoc- 
racy refined and perpetuated, which has but lit- 
tle sympathy with the vest of the world. 

Like all establishn^ents claiming for them- 
i-^lves peculiar superiority, Almack's has been 
riany times violently assailed. It exercises, in 
iact, an authority really more oppressive and 
unjust than any the throne ever dares assume. 
It shuts out hundreds and thousands from the 
standing and consideration to which they are 
jQStly entitled in society; and so omnipotent is 
the tyranny of aristocratic opinion, that its seal 
of disapprobation, once fixed upon the name 
of an ambitious aspirant, disgraces and obscures 
him in public estimation forever. Of course, 



ATTEMPT TO PUT DOWN ALMACk's. 135 

all the jealousy and rancour of disappointed 
ambition are arrayed against it ; for such as 
can never share in its honours are deeply stung 
by its contempt. 

So deeply have certain persons felt this gall- 
ing yoke, that a combination has even been 
contemplated, for the purpose of breaking its 
power by parliamentary interference. 

But do not suppose, dear sir, that this indi- 
cates any advancement of the coarse principles 
of democracy among these parliamentary re- 
formers. Oh ! no ; it proceeds from quite an- 
other motive than this ; they wish to rend, be- 
cause they cannot rule the halls of Almack's. 
Besides, it was soon discovered that the Imperial 
Parliament was itself one of the chief support- 
ers of Almack's ; and felt that any innovation 
upon so venerable an institution was an inva 
sion of the time-honoured prerogatives of thp> 
English aristocracy. i 

The power of legislation is sometimes direct- 
ed to sad purposes; and although in this in- 
stance the evil is doubtless enormous, yet we can 
hardly suppress a smile when we hear legisla- 
tors talking seriously about turning the supreme/ 
power of a mighty nation into a regulator of 
fashions and master of ceremonies. Destroy 
Almack's ! The fair ladies who are so happy as 
to resort there have woven their charm for too 



136 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

many noble lords and right honourable mem- 
bers of the House of Commons, ever to be dis- 
turbed by "an act entitled an act to abolish 
the right of certain distinguished families to 
associate, waltz, gallopade, and tumble in the 
ring with whomsoever they please." 

Indeed, it is an institution which addresses 
itself to a strong principle of the human heart 
— the vanity of man ; and although it may 
make thousands wretched, thousands more will 
hope on for its favour and the flattery it brings. 
It can never be abolished until Englishmen 
shall lose their reverence for rank, and scorn 
the idea that a few distinguished ladies should 
hold in their hands all the means of human en- 
joyment ; until they shall learn to esteem oth- 
er consequence than such as ease, titles, and 
idleness bestow, and to honour only those who 
add something to the stock of human intelli- 
gence, and make the world better by their in- 
fluence ; OR, until a quarrel, which cannot be 
hushed, shall involve the whole establishment 
in ruin. 

Woman was the last and most perfect work 
of God. But if she came from the hand of the 
Creator the sweetest, she is also capable of be- 
coming the sourest of all beings. It happily 
is not often we find her in such imperfect state, 
and for this we should be thankful. But should 



NIGHT ADVENTURE IN AN OMNIBUS, 137 

the lovely divinities of Almack's enchanted 
halls ever have the peace of their " Board of Red 
Gloth" broken by a serious contention, this 
gorgeous temple of fashion will come down 
with a crash that will be a warning to the ex- 
quisites of all future generations. If Almack's 
ever falls, " great will be the fall thereof." 



It may be not unpleasant to you to contem- 
plate a somewhat different scene. 

When I left Lord 's it was twelve 

o'clock. I hurried on through Hyde Park, 
and found an omnibus standing before Apsley 
House (the Duke of Wellington's), waiting for 
passengers for the East End. A thick fog hung 
over London, and a storm seemed to be com- 
ing on. The night was dark and gloomy. By 
the light of a neighbouring lamp I perceived a 
lady in the omnibus, who was not only unat- 
tended, but there was no other person in the 
carriage. 

Her face, on which the lamp shone brightly, 
was as pale as marble ; but her features were 
very beautiful. She was dressed as superbly 
as though she had just come from a ball at Al- 
mack's. There was a look of deep distress on 
her countenance ; such a look as we never for- 
M2 



138 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND, 

get after it is once seen. The large blue vein 
on her forehead swelled out as if ready to burst. 
We rode on for a mile through the streets, now 
nearly deserted and silent, without speaking. 
In the presence of what appeared to me so 
great anguish, I could not think of words I 
dared to utter. In the light which shone in 
from the lamps as we passed along, her face 
wore an ashy paleness ; and on that face there 
was an expression of such utter loneliness and 
desertion, of such evident sinking from rank 
and prostration of earthly hopes, that I needed 
but one glance to convince me that she had 
fallen from the gay and heartless circle of 
fashion. 

I ventured to ask if I could render her any 
service in a ride at that late hour. She repli- 
ed, " Oh ! sir, whoever you are, for God's 
sake don't speak to me ; I only want to die ; 
you can't help me now." 

As she uttered these words she burst into 
tears. We rode on in silence, broken at in- 
tervals by her sobs and sighs. We passed 
through Temple Bar and reached St. Paul's, 
where I was to get out. But I was determined 
to go as far as the omnibus went, if necessary, 
to know whether my fellow-passenger was a 
maniac or what. When we came to the bank, 
the coachman stopped and inquired where 



THE FALLEN ONE AND HER CHILD. 139 

we would get out. Again I asked if I could 
render her any assistance. " Yes, sir, you 
can, if you have any pity. Let me get out 
anywhere. I care not where I go if I can only 
find some place to lay my head." 

I assisted her in getting out of the omnibus. 
She fell as she stepped down, and I caught her 
with one arm and her — child with the other. 
This new-born infant was wrapped in a Cash- 
mere shawl — its only swaddling-clothes. The 
mother asked me to lead her to a place where 
she could sit down — the omnibus drove on ; 
and not a human being was in sight. Near by 
was a flight of stone steps, upon which she was 
scarcely seated when she fainted away. 

There was no lamp near us ; it was past one 
o'clock ; the rain had begun to fall heavily upon 
the pavements, and, save the feeble cry of the 
infant in my arms and the distant rumbling of 
the omnibus, no sound was to be heard. I 
shouted for a policeman, knowing that one 
must be not far off, and doAvn the street I heard 
his answer, followed by the heavy, quick fall of 
his foot. 

I inquired for a boarding-house. He said 
we must pass down two or three streets to- 
wards the Thames to find one, and he would 
assist us. 

" I will carry the lady," said he, " if you will 



140 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

spread this India-rubber cape (a garment which 
all policemen wear when it rains) over the child, 
and take care of it." 

I spoke to the mother, whom I had raised 
from the step when she fainted, and had sup- 
ported till now ; and, as she partly recovered, 
the first words she spoke were, " Oh ! where is 
my child — my child ? Oh ! God of heaven, 
has he stolen my child ?" 

I told her the child was safe in my arms, and 
protected from the rain. " Oh ! then give him 
to me." She seized the babe, and, pressing it 
close to her heart, asked us to leave her. I said, 
" We will take you to a house where you will 
be comfortable." 

" God bless you," she answered, " if you 
will." 

She consented to let me take the child, and 
we hurried on through the storm to a place of 
shelter. We were met by several policemen, 
each of whom stopped us until he received the 
countersign from the one with us. At last 
we reached the house, and, after ringing the 
bell several times, the door was opened by a 
servant. We made known our business, and 
were admitted to the hall. The lady of the 
house was called, and engaged to furnish ac- 
commodations for the young mother. She took 
the child from my hands, and I paid her char- 



THE .POLICEMAN S STORY. 141 

ges for a week, and turned to leave the house 
with the watchman. 

The mother called me back from the door 
and said, " I can only thank you, sir. God 
bless you — GOD will bless you for this." 

We left the house. As we entered the street 
the rain was falling heavily, and violent gusts 
of wind dashed by, with that dismal moaning 
sound which is never so mournful, even in the 
wild woods, as in the dark solitude of a large 
city late at night. But still, this was less dreary 
than the scene we had just left ; and a load fell 
from my heart when I once more felt the night- 
tempest sweeping by me. 

I asked the policeman who he thought the 
lady could be. " Why, sir," said he, " there is 
no knowing, of course, certainly ; but I doubt 
not she has moved in fashionable life. Did 
you see how she was dressed ? and how she 
spoke ? Why, you can tell a lady from the 
West E nd only by hearing her speak once. You 
say she got in at Hyde Park corner. Why, 1 
suppose she has been ruined by some heartless 
fellow in Regent's-street. There are thousands 
of girls that are ; and then they come to the 
East End and starve to death, or die of neglect 
and privation. From one extreme to the other, 
this is the way with the London world. For 
my part, I am satisfied with the lot of a police- 
man." 



142 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

I inquired if she could not be helped by one 
of the Charities. "Well, sir," said he, "we 
can do our best ; but the Charities are all 
crowded. I have made three unsuccessful ap- 
plications for persons in distress within the last 
two days. But, if you will write something 
about this, and let me take your letter, the 
chance will be fair." 

I engaged to address a letter the next morn- 
ing to the " City of London Lying-in Hospital, 
City Road, or any other London Charity." The 
policeman promised to call for the letter at nine 
o'clock. [By means of these exertions this un- 
fortunate mother received assistance ; but her 
child died the night she came from the West 
End.] 

I laid myself down on my pillow that night 
worn out with fatigue. But too many confused 

images of the gay halls of Lord ; of the 

revelry and splendour of the West End ; and of 
the extreme suffering and wretchedness of that 
ruined female in the dark and dismal streets 
of London, crowded upon my fancy to let me 
sleep. 

In one night I had seen the two extremes of 
a London life — opulence, gayety, fashion, and 
song in the palace halls of an English noble- 
man ; and the abject and hopeless misery of a 
broken-hearted female, who bad fallen from 



LONDON AS IT IS. 143 

such a circle, to fill a grave dug by strangers 
in the Potters' Field. 

Such is London — the West End and Spital- 
fields — a nobleman and a beggar — revelry, 
mirth, beauty, and fashion — a maniac victim 
of seduction w^ith her dying child — such is 
London. 

Believe me, sir, 

Yours, &c.. 



144 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

To the Hon. John Quincy Adams. 

London, — , 1840. V 

Sir, 

You are one of the few illnstrious men of a 
past age whom the kind Providence of God 
has still spared to our country. In childhood 
I was taught to respect your name ; and in af- 
ter years, as I have seen age gently laying its 
hand upon you without any of its infirmities, 
that feeling has grown into reverence. 

As I design to speak of some of the distin- 
guished public men and the present political 
aspects of Great Britain in this communica- 
tion, I know not to whom I can so well ad- 
dress it as to one so familiar Avith her past his- 
tory and present condition as yourself. 

For a long time no very deep interest has 
been felt in the affairs of the British empire, 
except by our statesmen ; but circumstances 
are now transpiring which have turned the at- 
tention of our whole country intensely upon 
them. 

In every age England has had some bold 
and generous men, Avho have resisted the en- 
croachments of the crown upon the rights of 
the people ; but it is lamentable, after all, to 



FATE OP REFORMERS. 145 

think she has made no greater progress in the 
path of popular liberty. 

One class of her reformers, as Sir Harry- 
Vane, Hampden, Sidney, Raleigh, and Russell, 
have fallen martyrs to freedom on the field or 
scaffold, or dragged out a miserable existence 
in dungeons. Another class, in the zeal and 
impatience of reform, have plunged their coun- 
try into revolution and bloodshed, under the 
mistaken idea that the sword alone could vin- 
dicate the cause of freedom. 

But the sword has yet done comparatively lit- 
tle for liberty : power, thus far, has almost al- 
ways been on the side of oppression and wrong, 
so that it has seldom been safe to trust the inter- 
ests of freedom to the terrible chances of bat- 
tle. Witness Greece and Carthage in the time 
of Scipio and Mummius. Said the brave Bru- 
tus, after Liberty had taken her flight from the 
world at Philippi, " Oh ! Virtue, not thou, but 
Fate rules below," and fell upon his sword. 

We read painful stories of the Huguenot 
wars. We weep over the fall of the Lovers of 
Liberty who were butchered in the Valleys of the 
Vaudois, or who fell under the walls of Warsaw. 
Liberty has come off victorious from many a 
well-fought field in modern times, it is true. 
England saw this in North, and Spain and Por- 
tugal in South America. Even Haytien ne- 

VoL. II.— N 



146 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

groes have won their way to freedom, albeit with 
a " bloody axe." Greece, too, is partly free ; 
free, at least, forever from the power of the 
Crescent. But, until the glorious example of 
our own Revolution, freedom had generally lost 
more than she had gained in battle. Still, Bacon 
says, " It is better to fail in striking for so noble 
a thing as liberty, than not to strike at all ; for 
reformers never can die." The memory of 
martyrs is one of the safeguards of human free- 
dom : 

" E'en in their ashes live their wonted fires." 

It is said, that when the Bohemians heard 
of the martyrdom of their beloved Huss, the 
nation armed as one man, and, fired by deep 
revenge, poured themselves over Germany. 
Ziska, their chief leader, after losing his eyes in 
battle, like the Black Knight, went to the field 
and defeated his enemies ; and so wild and 
strong was the enthusiasm his name inspired, 
that after he was dead (1424), his enemies still 
trembled at the sound of his skin formed into 
a drum : so true it is that " Reformers never 
die." But few instances are on record, howev- 
er, in which Victory has declared for the friends 
of truth. It is better to trust to her " Celestial 
Armour." 

A.nother class of English reformers has been 
bought up by chs Crown ; a peerage, a judge- 



VENALITY OF POPULAR LEADERS. 147 

ship, or the like, has been the price of their 
tergiversation, or, at least, of their silence. 
You may have seen some months ago a beauti- 
ful steamer lying idly at the Albany docks, day 
after day, and month after month. She could 
run well, was in fine order. Why unemploy- 
ed ? She was hired to lay still. She carried 
passengers to New- York for half a dollar ; the 
old lines for $2.00. A steamer which runs for 
money will stop running for money. Now the 
traveller pays his $2.00, and wishes the Dia- 
mond was making her trips. 

England has ever done her best to buy up 
those men who seek to secure liberty for her 
home subjects. She has no objection to their 
working as hard as they please for the oppress- 
ed in foreign lands — none at all. She and her 
aristocracy will not only applaud the effort, but 
join in it. Prince Albert gives 100 guineas a 
year to the " African Civilization Society ;" 
the object of which is to improve the condition 
of Africa, and thus put an end to the slave- 
trade ; as though the article of slaves would not 
be supplied so long as a market exists. 

But the moment an Englishman of some note 
begins to talk and write about the sufferings 
of English people in this island, there is a 
great disturbance in certain quarters. He is a 
man of too much consideration to be transport- 



148 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ed ; and, in fact, has committed no crime. He 
is too bold to be intimidated by a threat; per- 
haps too rich to care for money ; too popular 
with the mass, who are, after all, the grand 
constituency of the throne (Charles I. and 
James II. found them so), to be made odious. 
But he is not absolutely invulnerable, is he ? 
Surely he has a weak point somewhere, and 
the ministry can find it. He is ambitious. He 
is made Lord-lieutenant of Ireland ; Govern- 
or-general of Canada ; an East India judge, 
or what not ; and he is safe. He is canonized 
— 'enrolled among the ecclesiastico-politico-ar- 
istocracy of Old England ; and you hear no 
more of the reformer. This is the Avay the 
people of England lose their supporters. 

True, you say, "but the people of England 
have lost nothing ; he never was a true friend of 
theirs, or he could not have been bought. Lu- 
ther was not to be hired, like the steamer, to 
keep still; neither was Vane, nor Russell, nor 
Cromwell, nor Hampden; nor is O^Connell. 
Such men cannot be still any more than vol- 
canic fires ; they are sometimes quiescent, but 
eternally working ; and by-and-by you shall 
hear, maybe see, and possibly feel, an irrup- 
tion. Such men have a message from God, 
from Liberty, from the friends of humanity who 
are dead, and they must deliver it." 



BENEDICT ARNOLD. 149 

This is quite true ; but it is a sad thing, with- 
al, for liberty to lose even men who can be 
bought ; if they are worth buying they are 
worth keeping ; even the man who has his price 
is worth something ; he may fight ; sometimes 
such make the very best fighters. Did ever a 
man rush to the battle with greater daring, or 
deal stronger blows upon the rampant British 
lion, than Benedict Arnold, even while cher- 
ishing in his heart the purpose to betray his 
country ? Did Nero exult more like a fiend 
over the conflagration of Rome, than did Ar- 
nold, when from the belfry of a steeple he 
saw New-London wrapped in flames of his 
own kindling ? 

The early friends of Arnold, his school- 
mates, his neighbours, his old familiar compan- 
ions who expired on that ill-fated day by the 
sword or the flames, thought doubtless the 
friendship even of a man who could be bought 
Avorth something. Yes, England has lost many 
such ; and liberty to this hour bleeds for their 
* defection. 

But then she has had some reformers, who 
could neither be transported, hired, bribed, in- 
timidated, nor sent to the Tower. It would be 
an amusing sight to see any monarch, or minis- 
try, or Parliament, send O' Connell to the Tower. 
One would almost die of laughing spasms to 
N 2 



IBO GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

see Daniel collared and fettered for " old Lon- 
don Tower." All Ireland, and the better part 
of England, would go with him — probably the 
Tower would be inconveniently full. 

Monarchs cannot do all things : they cannot, 
in our times, send every disturber of the peace 
(generally the people's friends are intended by 
this phrase, when it comes from certain quar- 
ters) to the Tower ; nor shoot down or hang 
up every plebeian heart that clamours for right. 
Another thing : they cannot grant true, genu- 
ine liberty to the people, and be monarchs still. 
They must be presidents or protectors, then. 

Yes, England has always had a few men 
who could never be made to betray their coun- 
try ; and without them she would not have 
been what she now is. These men have had 
charge of the precious treasure of liberty, and 
transmitted it, like the torch of science, from 
age to age. The greatest of them all was Ol- 
iver Cromwell : with all his faul'ts, bigotry, en- 
thusiasm, or Avhatever you please. 

The greatest, in our times, was Lord Brough-* 
am. It is the general opinion here of those 
with whom I have conversed, who seem to 
have a pretty good knowledge of affairs, that 
Brougham has sacrificed his principles on the 
altar of a British peerage. Reformers, I am 
told, have lost neaciy all their confidence in him. 






POSITION OF BROUGHAM. 151 

The aristocracy never have had any confidence 
in him until quite recently. He has too long 
been committed on the popular side ; dealt out 
too many heavy blows upon the ancient nobil- 
ity. His defence of Queen Caroline, his speech 
on the Durham clergy, his course in the Lower 
House while he was yet Henry Brougham ; all 
this will not soon be forgotten. 

Brougham must be aware that he has gone 
too far ever to retreat. He has halted and de- 
viated already, just enough to shake the con- 
fidence of all his friends, and utterly to destroy 
that of many. When a great reform measure 
comes up in Parliament, all eyes are turned on 
Brougham ; they expect to see him open his 
batteries like a citadel of Liberty. But he sits 
crouched in his seat. All wait ; still the oracle 
gives no response. He sees the vote passed 
which takes away the freedom of the people ; 
but he is silent. It is said he is hired to keep 
quiet : not that the aristocracy make up a purse 
for his lordship — this would be too gross even 
for such a man as Arnold — but the thing is 
managed in some way. He is brought by his 
peerage into a circle where it is for his interest 
to take a course which wounds the cause of 
liberty — a course he never would have taken 
had his great heart been free from the vile 
trammels of the aristocracy. At any rate, 



152 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

he has disappointed all his friends ; and the 
Conservatives, I w^as told by an ex-minister, 
*' like him better than they used to.''^ 

A few^ vs^ords more as to this extraordinary 
man. It has been pretty generally conceded, 
I believe, that Brougham has had no contem- 
porary rival whom he had any reason to fear. 
There is but one man probably in the world 
who could match him. One would like to see 
Brougham and Webster enter the lists ; it 
would be a scene of intellectual gladiatorship 
such as this little earth has seldom witnessed, I 
ween ; somewhat like the meeting of two ter- 
rific thunder clouds in mid heaven ; or, to de- 
scend from the sublime to the ridiculous, like 
the battle of the Kilkenny cats, " who left no- 
thing of each other but the tails." Hayne was 
no match for Webster ; Canning no match for 
Brougham. 

He would be a weak man, I think, who 
should venture to close in with either of these 
champions, unless he had all the truth on his 
side ; for Truth is stronger than Brougham or 
Webster ; and, indeed, than a whole regiment 
of such men. 

Some years ago Brougham was described in 
comparison of Canning, in the following lan- 
guage. The author of this parallel has, I be- 
lieve, never been known. I will quote a part 
of it, leaving out so much as refers to Can- 



DESCRIPTION OF BROUGHAM. 153 

ning. It is a painting of these great rival or- 
ators, when, in the early part of the session of 
1823, they sat glancing hostility and defiance 
at each other. 

" The personal appearance of Brougham seem- 
ed stern, hard, lowering, and almost repulsive. 
His head gave sure indication of the terrible 
power of the inhabitant within. His features 
w^ere harsh in the extreme : while his forehead 
shot up to a great elevation, his chin was long 
and square ; his mouth, nose, and eyes seemed 
huddled together in the centre of his face — the 
eyes absolutely lost amid folds and corruga- 
tions ; and while he sat listening, they seemed 
to retire inward, or to be veiled by a filmy cur- 
tain, which not only concealed the appalling 
glare which shot away from them when he was 
aroused, but rendered his mind and his pur- 
pose a sealed book to the keenest scrutiny of 
man : his passions remained w^ithin, as in a cit- 
adel which no artillery could batter, and no 
mine blow up ; and even when he was putting 
forth all the power of his eloquence, when ev- 
ery ear was tingling at what he said, and while 
the immediate object of his invective was wri- 
thing in helpless and indescribable agony, his 
visage retained its cold and brassy hue, and 
he triumphed over the passions of other men by 
seeming to be wholly without passion himself. 



154 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

'* His whole form was angular, long, and 
awkward; and when he rose to speak he stood 
coiled and concentrated, reckless of all but the 
power within himself — a being whose powers 
and intentions were all a mystery, whose aim 
and effect no living man could divine. The 
more hard and unmouthable his words and pe- 
riods, the better : he proceeded like a master 
of every power of reasoning and of the under- 
standing. His modes and allusions could be 
squared only by the higher analysis of the mind ; 
and they rose, and ran, and pealed, and swell- 
ed on and on, till a single sentence was often 
a complete oration within itself; but still, so 
clear was the logic, and so close the connex- 
ion, that every member carried the weight of all 
that went before, and opened the way for all 
that was to follow after. His style was like 
the concave speculum, scattering no indiscrim- 
inate radiance, but having its light concentra- 
ted into one intense and tremendous focus : he 
turned himself round in a spiral, sweeping the 
contents of a vast circumference before him, 
and uniting and pouring them onward to the 
main point of attack. 

" When he began, one was astonished at the 
wideness and obliquity of his course ; nor was 
it possible to comprehend how he was to dis- 
pose of the vast and varied materials which he 



BROUGHAM S ATTACK UPON CANNING. 155 

collected in his way ; but, as the curve lessen- 
ed and the end appeared, it became obvious 
that all was to be efficient there. 

*' Upon that occasion" (when Brougham was 
to commence his attack upon Canning and his 
ministry) "his oration was at the outset disjoint- 
ed and ragged, and apparently without aim or 
application. He careered over the whole an- 
nals of the world, and collected every instance 
in which genius had degraded itself at the foot- 
stool of power, or in which principle had been 
sacrificed for the vanity or lucre of place ; but 
still, there was no allusion to Canning, and no 
connexion that ordinary men could discover 
with the business of the House. When, how- 
ever, he had collected every material which 
suited his purpose ; when the mass had become 
big and black, he bound it about and about 
with the chords of illustration and of argument; 
when its union was secure, he swung it round 
and round with the strength of a giant and the 
rapidity of a whirlwind, in order that its impe- 
tus might be the more tremendous ; and while 
doing this he ever and anon glared his eye, 
and pointed his finger to make the aim and the 
direction sure. 

" Canning himself was the first that seemed 
to be aware where and how terrible was to be 
the collision ; and he kept writhing his body in 



156 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

agony, and rolling his eyes in fear, as if anx- 
ious to find some shelter from the impending 
bolt. The House soon caught the impression, 
and every man in it was glancing his eye fear- 
fully, first towards the orator, and then towards 
the secretary. There was, save the voice of 
Brougham, which growled in that under-tone 
of thunder which is so fearfully audible, and of 
which no speaker of the day was fully master 
but himself, a silence as if the angel of retribu- 
tion had been glaring in the face of all parties 
the scroll of their private lives. 

" A pen, which one of the secretaries drop- 
ped upon the matting, was heard in the remo- 
test parts of the house ; and the visiting' mem- 
bers, who often slept in the side galleries du- 
ring the debate, started up as though the final 
trump had been sounding them to give an ac- 
count of their deeds. The stiffness of Brousfh- 
am's figure had vanished ; his features seemed 
concentrated almost to a point ; he glanced to- 
wards every part of the House in succession ; 
and sounding the death-knell of the secretary's 
forbearance and prudence, with both his clinch- 
ed hands upon the table, he hurled at him an 
accusation more dreadful in its gall, and more 
torturing in its effects, than ever has been hurl- 
ed at mortal man within the same walls. 

" The result was instantaneous; was electric; 



PRESENTATION OF SNUFFBOX TO BROUGHAM. 157 

it was as when the thunder cloud descends upon 
some giant peak : one flash, one peal, the sub- 
limity vanished, and all that remained was a 
small pattering of rain. Canning started to his 
feet, and was able only to utter the unguarded 
words, ' It is false !' to which followed a dull 
chapter of apologies. From that moment the 
'House became more a scene of real business 
than of airy display and angry vituperation." 

I saw Lord Brougham at his house in Lon- 
don, and heard him converse some time. Mr. 
Birney was appointed by the committee of the 
Pennsylvania Hall of Philadelphia to present 
his lordship a snuffbox (as we all supposed), 
which had been made from the ruins of that 
magnificent edifice. A company of Americans 
then in London were invited to accompany 
Mr. Birney on his mission, not to see the snufF- 
box, of course, but the snuW-taker. 

That same morning I happened to be in the 
room with a very zealous American, and, be- 
fore we left for Brougham's, he requested me to 
kneel with him in prayer, for " he had a weighty 
matter on his mind, about which he wished to 
seek Divine direction." This was all proper 
enough, I thought, and perfectly agreeable to 
my feelings ; and if it had not been so, I would 
have yielded from respect to him. 

The burden of the prayer was, that the phil- 

Vol. IL— O 



158 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

anthropists of America had so far forgotten 
their principles and the spirit of Christianity, 
as to present a snuffbox to Lord Brougham, 
" thereby encouraging a vice second only to 
slavery and intemperance." 

He prayed, with a fervour worthy of a better 
cause, " that we might be directed what course 
to take : we wanted to see Lord Brougham, 
but we did not want to countenance iniquity." 

I certainly could not join very heartily in 
this petition, for I did not see that it met my 
case at all, since I was going, as I before said, 
to see the snuff-taker, and not the snuffbox. 
After a good many hesitations and scruples 
about the path of duty, curiosity prevailed, and 
the anti-tobacco brother started with me for his 
lordship's house. 

"We were introduced into a lofty and ample 
sitting-room ; the walls were hung with a few 
fine paintings of distinguished men, and in the 
corners of the room were the marble busts of 
four great American statesmen, standing upon 
pillars of Egyptian marble: "Washington, Jef- 
ferson, Hamilton, and the elder Adams. 

Brougham appeared in a plain dress ; we all 
rose ; he came forward, and requested us to be 
seated. After some general conversation, Mr. 
Birney mentioned the commission with which he 
was charged, and produced the snuffbox, which 



I 



brougham's reply to birney. 159 

had, by some strange metamorphosis, been 
turned into an — inkstand : a slight mistake my 
friend had made ; and I could hardly keep from 
bursting into a fit of laughter when I observed 
the incident. 

Mr. Birney discharged his mission, making 
an appropriate and sensible speech, though 
rather too highly spiced, perhaps, with compli- 
ment. Brougham, at least, manifested some im- 
atience, and twisted himself about in his chair. 

He replied in a very familiar way : "I do 
not know, gentlemen, when I have experienced 
more pleasure and satisfaction than in receiving 
your deputation. I feel the deepest interest in 
everything that relates to your great and free 
nation : I have for many years watched the 
workings of your institutions, and I know of 
nothing tjiat is likely to offer any effectual hin- 
derance to the progress of the United States, ex- 
cept slavery. Its existence and its enormities 
in the very heart of your glorious republican 
country is, perhaps, the greatest anomaly on 
the face of the earth. I have kept my eye 
upon the progress of the anti-slavery question 
in America from the beginning. I have re- 
ceived and read your publications of every de- 
scription, and I must say that several things 
surprise me. 

" One is, that the most effective opposition to 



160 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the abolitionists comes from the North ; the 
second is, that Congress has dared to outrage 
the great principles of the American Govern- 
ment, the rights of man, and the humanity of 
the world so violently, as to refuse to give anti- 
slavery petitions a hearing; and the third is, 
that the American people will endure so tame- 
ly to be robbed of their rights. 

" Why, gentlemen," said he, as he rose from 
his seat, under a sudden burst of enthusiasm, 
with a flashing eye, and a deep scowl on his 
face, "the veriest slaves in Europe would not 
submit to that ; it is the last right tyrants have 
ever dared to take away ; the last the people 
have ever been willing to surrender. But then 
you will get along with that ; send in your pe- 
titions ; don't be disheartened ; your Congress 
won't refuse you much longer. It will soon be 
unpopular to do it ; and then, of course, they 
will desist. 

" The last thing I was going to speak of 
is the estimation in which the American abo- 
litionists are held at home. They may say, if 
this conversation goes out to the world (and I 
have no objection that it should), that I have 
read but one side ; and every one knows that 
it is impossible to form an accurate estimate 
of any party from their own papers and docu- 
ments. But I have read both sides ; indeed, 



BROUGHAM S REPLY TO BIRNEY. 161 

all sides. I am not deceived; and it is a 
great blot upon American character, the treat- 
ment the anti-slavery party have received 
from their fellow-citizens. Why, gentlemen, 
there is no body of men on earth, and there 
never was, whom in my heart I honour more 
than the abolitionists of the United States. 
They are an incomparable body of men : they 
have braved danger, and, what is a more diffi- 
cult matter, they have sacrificed popularity and 
personal aggrandizement, and surrendered ev- 
ery consideration, to say nothing of the peril 
of life, in advancing their cause. I honour 
them, and from my heart I pray God to bless 
them. 

" Yes, as far as my name will carry the 
smallest amount of influence, let it be known 
that I revere and love the American abolition- 
ists. You have seen the darkest crisis you 
will be called to pass in the history of your en- 
terprise ; you will experience no more vio 
lence, I trust. "Whatever extravagance the re- 
formers may have exhibited in the heat of early 
enthusiasm, is passing away, and giving place 
to a more firm and settled purpose to work 
the deliverance of the bondsman. And that 
wild spirit of rancour with which you have 
been greeted by the ultra and the bigoted 
among the other party, is fast disappearing; 
02 



162 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and it will not be long before the whole nation 
will calmly and honestly address itself to the 
great work of overthrowing so dangerous and 
odious a system as American slavery. You 
can work reforms safely and surely, because 
the mass of your people are intelligent ; they 
understand more or less the merits of every 
great political question ; their reason and judg- 
ment can be reached ; their passions can be 
appealed to with safety ; and when the princi- 
ples of reform have been diffused by your two 
thousand presses, broad-cast over your land, 
the hearts, the consciences, and the reason of 
the people will achieve the work. 

" You are a noble people, and slavery with 
you is like a blemish upon a magnificent paint- 
ing : there may be a thousand beauties there, 
but the eye is attracted by nothing but the 
blemish. American tyranny, if it do exist, 
must of necessity be the most odious tyranny 
on earth. Your back-ground is all so fair, that 
one blemish, one defect, one foul blot, like sla- 
very, destroys the effect of the whole. 

" You perceive, gentlemen, that you cannot 
convince Europe you are right. You are ar- 
raigned before the bar of the civilized world 
for your conduct ; and you can neither excul- 
pate yourselves nor escape the trial. — I have 
lot spoken anything in anger : I only say these 



brougham's reply to BIRNEY. 163 

things in grief. Would to God you were quite 
rid of the system. No reasonable limits could 
be assigned to your influence upon the Euro- 
pean world ; upon the forms of oppression and 
tyranny which exist here, if you would only 
be true to yourselves. Philanthropists in the 
Old World have always borrowed hope and en- 
couragement from America. For many years 
our mouths were shut, when we pointed to the 
United States for a living illustration of the po- 
sition that man was capable of self-government, 
by the cry, ' Let us not form our opinions too 
hastily. The Democratic principle has not yet 
had time to produce its legitimate ejEFects.' 

" That cry has been silenced by your com- 
plete success ; and now the true friends of pop- 
ular rights and American Democracy are met, 
wherever they go through Europe, with an ar- 
gument which closes their mouths effectually : , 
' Look across the Atlantic if you would see re- ; 
publicanism. Every sixth man, and woman, 
and child is enslaved ; and reduced from citi- , 
zenship, and the inviolable and inalienable rights, 
of man, to chattlehood. Away with your De- 
mocracy. Give us the protection cif a throne 
and the liberty of a peasantry.' 

" But then a man must have read the world 
to no purpose, who cannot see no uncertain in- 
dication from the signs of the times, that thcj 
days of American slavery are numbered." 



164 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

All this would have come with much bet- 
ter grace from Henry than from Henry Lord 
Brougham. I have tried to give the substance 
of his conversation on this subject, and as near- 
ly as possible his language. 1 took it down in 
shorthand on the spot, and Avrote it out in full 
an hour afterward. 

Lord Brougham is a mass of electrified 
nerves. He can neither sit nor stand still many 
seconds. You would think, to see the spas- 
modic contortions of his features, that the ma- 
king of grimaces had been his profession. He 
has a habit of twitching up the sides of his face 
by a violent muscular contraction, and almost 
every successive moment there appears some 
new and strange alteration in his physiognomy. 
I think a dozen accurate portraits might be 
taken of him, all of which would differ from 
each other and from himself except at particu- 
lar times. There are some expressions of his 
countenance which would defy all skill except 
Daguerre's ; and this mysterious and beauti- 
ful process would do nothing for Brougham's 
phiz, except upon the one-second plan ; for he 
could not keep still more than one, or, at most, 
two seconds. 

Brougham, with all his genius, learning, and 
fame, is, after all, an illustration of the weakness 
of human nature in its best estate. I was told 



DEFECTION OF BROUGHAM. 165 

that the reports so current some years ago, that 
he had fallen into intemperate habits, were 
true ; that he did drink wine excessively ; was 
often entirely disqualified for business or study. 
But it is understood that he has recovered from 
these habits, and is now perfectly temperate. 

Besides, Brougham has retreated from that 
high ground of reform which he once occupied, 
and inflicted a deep wound upon Liberty ; not 
by any violent or outrageous act — this is not 
the way such men show their defection — but by 
a want of sympathy for those great principles 
which he so long defended. In his conversa- 
tions, and occasionally in his speeches, he dis- 
plays the same bold, free, republican spirit for 
which he was once so distinguished ; but when 
the party with which, in his better days, he co- 
operated, rally around the old banner under 
which they achieved the Reform Bill, Brougham 
is no longer to be found among them. The 
Whigs have leaned upon him for support, but 
he has proved to them a broken reed. 

There is one consideration, however, which 
affords them satisfaction. He will not be likely 
to oppose them when they are called to mount 
" the deadly imminent breach ;" and he cannot 
undo what he has already done. English tyr- 
anny has received heavy blows from his strong 
arm, from which it never c^n recover j and his 



166 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

words and his works have gone forth among 
men, and are now mingling in the great stream 
of popular rights, which is sweeping away the 
old foundations of oppression all over the 
world. 

But there is one man in Great Britain who 
has done, and is still doing, more for humanity 
than Brougham ; one who has been long in 
public life, mingling in every question which 
has agitated the empire for a quarter of a cen- 
tury or more ; who is always found on the side 
of the people; who has never tripped, halted, 
varied, or shifted his course ; who has made 
more public speeches than any other man now 
living, and always spoken like a Republican ; 
who abhors oppression with all his heart ; who 
has been hated, courted, and feared (but never 
despised) by every party ; a man who has been 
a target for all Britain to shoot at for a whole 
generation ; who has come off victorious from 
every conflict, even when he has been beaten ; 
who has never betrayed his principles, but is 
forever betraying his party, or who, more prop- 
erly, has no party but his own ; who will be 
bound by no trammels ; who is eternally, and 
with a zeal which never grows cold, demand- 
ing justice for all the subjects of the British 
empire ; a man who now stands higher in the 
hearts of his countrymen, and in the esteem of 






DAiMEL O CONNELL. 167 

the world, than ever. You will most likely 
burst into a loud laugh when you see his name 
— Daniel O'Connell. 

But I trust you will not be frightened. " Hear 
me for my cause, and be silent that you may 
hear." 

Six months ago I should have been quite as 
much inclined to call the man crazy who should 
have written the above paragraph, as I should 
to have adopted his opinions. I have never 
been so entirely mistaken in any estimate I ever 
formed of a man's character as in the case of 
O'Connell. He has been generally regarded 
in America as a bold and reckless demagogue — 
an orator, it is true, but gifted only with a sort 
of cutthroat blackguardism, which would be in 
good taste if it fell from the lips of a highway- 
man. But all this is fudge I 

No man is prepared to appreciate O'Connell 
who does not remember that all his speeches 
are made for Ireland. He cares very little 
about their effect in Great Britain. English- 
men cannot disturb him by their criticism. He 
knows that his dominion lies in Ireland ; and 
every word he utters is addressed to the Irish 
heart. 

I doubt not O'Connell weighs well his words 
before they escape him. If he is vulgar, scur- 
rilous, or abusive, it is not owing to the excite- 



168 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ment of the moment ; it is because he has cer- 
tain ends to ansAver, and he chooses these means 
for their accomplishment. He is too old, too 
Avary, too wise to suffer himself to be borne 
along at the mercy of excitement he cannot 
control. 

No, Daniel O'Connell may seem to be im- 
prudent ; and sometimes, to hear him speak, 
you would think him wild with passion. But 
I have heard him use language on a certain 
subject in private conversation which sounded 
not a little strange, and repeat it several times 
with great calmness ; and an hour afterward I 
have heard that same language break forth 
from his lips in a public meeting like a sponta- 
neous explosion. It seemed harsh, rash, and 
extravagant at the time ; but he had arranged, 
and digested, and weighed every word of that 
speech before he entered the assembly where 
it was uttered. Indeed, I have been often able 
to anticipate the drift of his speech by hearing 
him converse a short time before it was made. 

His time is so continually taken from him by 
visiters who call for purposes of business, friend- 
ship, or curiosity, that he is very often obliged 
to prepare his speeches during these conversa- 
tions. 

I wish to say a few things more about this 
singular man. I have seen much of him ; heard 



O CONNELL. 169 

him converse a good deal ; listened to more 
than twenty of his public speeches ; and all 
this has enabled me to form, I think, a correct 
opinion in regard to bis character. 

He is now, it is said, about sixty-four years 
old ; but he certainly does not seem to be over 
forty or forty-five. He is at least six feet in 
stature, and has a full and majestic person : he 
wears a handsome wig, and dresses with great 
taste and simplicity. On all occasions he has 
entire control over himself; his manner is al- 
ways perfect, because it always suits the occa- 
sion. He knows how to stir up the enthusiasm 
of a company of wild Irish Sansculotte peas- 
ants, as well as ever a troubadour knew how to 
draw music from his harp ; and in doing it 
would most likely offend the taste of an Eng- 
lish " exquisite ;" and he knows full well, too, 
how to chain the attention of Parliament, or a 
great meeting in Exeter Hall, by the deep, rich 
music of his voice, keen Irish wit, classic dic- 
tion, and elegant address. 

He likes better to make an Irish speech, I 
fancy, than to talk to Englishmen ; for he is 
fond of dealing in sledgehammer arguments, 
irony and sarcasm : and he plays the barbarian 
with no little native grace. 

" Come," said Lord to John Randolph 

of Roanoke, " now let us go into the House 

Vol. II.— .P 



170 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and see the bear dance" (referring to O'Con- 
nell). " By all the gods on Olympus," said 
Randolph, as he met his lordship after adjourn- 
ment, at the bar of the House, " I never saw 
such dancing from bear or human kind ! It's 
worth all the rest of the menagerie (and beg- 
ging your lordship's pardon). House of Lords 
to boot." 

O'Connell has always been regarded with 
some suspicion by the Whigs, and, of course, 
the Tory party have done all they could to 
blacken his name ; and while it is generally ac- 
knowledged that there is no man in Great Brit- 
ain who can command the same influence, yet 
there are many of the reformers who have not 
entire confidence in his integrity. 

They say, " Let us wait — we cannot tell — he 
may, after all, turn out a bad man — his race is 
not yet fully run." 

This has been the cry from the time he first 
entered into public life. From all sides the 
clamour has been, " We shall see." 

Yes ! you have seen for the better part of a 
lifetime ; how much longer time do you re- 
quire ? He has outlived one generation an 
honest man, and he must be a great fool (which 
he never has been accused of yet) to throw off 
the cloak of hypocrisy thus late in life, even if 
he has been acting a part ; and he wears it so 
gracefully, it seems to have been made for him 



OCONNELL NO HYPOCRITE. 171 

or he for it ; for there is certainly a wonderful 
fitness. 

No ! I fancy if O'Connell even be a hypo- 
crite, it never vv^ill be known in this world ; 
when this Junius is dead, not so much as one 
man will have the secret ; it will die with the 
Great Orator. Oh ! no ; it is too late now. If 
ambition has ruled him in the past, even this 
will keep him consistent, as he must know it is 
his only safeguard for the future. 

It is currently said, that as men grow gray 
they grow wise. O'Connell is already beyond 
gray hairs. Ten years ago he used this lan- 
guage in speaking of himself at a public dinner 
given to him as he was leaving Dublin to take 
his seat in the House of Commons for the first 
time. It was all prophecy then ; it is all histo- 
ry now. 

" I go to Parliament with more of the hatred 
of the enemies of the people arrayed against 
me, than perhaps any other man who ever en- 
tered that Honourable House. I never spared 
the oppressors of Ireland ; I never permitted 
them to repose upon a bed of roses, but threw 
in as many nettles as I could. My next quali- 
fication for Parliament is, that I enjoy the af- 
fections and confidence of a considerable por- 
tion of my countrymen ; and this is an anima- 
ting consideration, a spirit-stiring consolation. 



172 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

What is it that could induce me to tarnish the 
humble fame I have acquired ? What earthly 
price could tempt me to be untrue to the peo- 
ple ? (Loud cheering). ' Not all the wealth 
of Indus' could bribe me for one moment to 
desert the cause of Ireland. I am bribed al- 
ready by my own strong affections and attach- 
ment to my native land ; and I shall go to the 
House of Commons the honest, uncompromi- 
sing, although the talentless advocate of the 
people. * * Among the Whigs there are at 
present some excellent men ; but some of them 
are mere Tories out of place. But I shall go 
to Parliament without caring twopence for the 
Whigs or three halfpence for the Tories. (Hear 
and laughter.) 

" I know I shall be assailed with bitter and 
unrelenting hostility, and in more shapes than 
one. Here I have been recently assailed by 
the pecking of sparrows and the nibbling of 
mice. But the opposition I shall meet in the 
House of Commons must be of a more dignified 
description. In that House I shall have no 
caste or party to lose. I shall go against all 
castes whose objects are inimical to the interests 
of the people of Ireland. (Ijoud cheering.) I 
shall be in more minorities than perhaps any 
other member in the Honourable House. I 
shall, according to the newspapers, be often 



OCONNELL ENTERING PARLIAMENT. 173 

put down ; the leading articles of eight or ten 
different papers will concur in stating that last 
night O'Connell was completely put down ; 
but the next packet will inform you that 
the same O'Connell is upon his legs again. 
{Laug-hter.) The objects of my public efforts 
shall be to render life and property more se- 
cure and liberty more permanent ; to put down 
every species of oppression, misgovernment, 
and misrule. 

" I have now arrived at that period of life 
when I am declining into the sear and yellow 
leaf. My children have grown up about me ; 
my grandchildren are beginning to prattle ; but 
yet I feel that I have sufficient physical force to 
work energetically in the public service. I left 
this city on Wednesday afternoon, travelling 
down to Kilkenny that night. I was up at five 
next morning in the frost and snow, and pro- 
ceeded to Carrick, and from thence took a cir- 
cuit through the county of Waterford. During 
the four days of ray absence, I made no less 
than seventeen public speeches to the people, and 
yet I returned back to Dublin with undimin- 
ished health and vigour. ****** 

" I am the first Roman Catholic capable of 

entering Parliament for a century and a half. 

The Protestants shall learn from my course that 

I prize their interests and rights as highly as I 

P2 



174 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

do those of my Catholic brethren. I only al- 
lude to the distinction between Catholics and 
Protestants to show that, in political matters, no 
difference exists. Then let us all, as true- 
hearted Christian Irishmen, unite together in 
one firm and mighty determination to rest not 
day nor night until we have achieved the polit- 
ical redemption of our own sweet land. Let 
us prepare ourselves for defeat, for we shall 
meet with it often ; but we will cheer ourselves 
with the hope that each defeat will bring us 
nearer to victory." 

It would be a difficult matter to show that 
O'Connell has ever violated his pledge to the 
people. It is nonsense to talk about his insin- 
cerity. The Argus-eyed world have watched 
him warily for many years : a trap is laid for 
him, a mine is prepared every day ; but when 
it is sprung he is some fifty leagues out of the 
way. He has come off victorious so many 
times, that no man disputes his wonderful 
power, at least. 

After he had forced the House of Lords to 
vote against their own interests in rejecting the 
Irish Tithe Commutation Bill, throwing them 
between the horns of a fatal dilemma by for- 
cing his amendment into the bill, the Duke of 
Wellington, who likes him about as well as he 
did Napoleon, is reported to have said that he 



o'connor's opinion of o'connell. 175 

was the greatest man England had seen since 
the days of Oliver Cromwell. 

If this was spoken at all (and one hopes, for 
the credit of the Duke, that he did say so, for 
the speech is not more full of compliment than 
admirable good sense), it was uttered in refer- 
ence to his having maintained his ascendency 
so long over Ireland by the great power and 
versatility of his talents. 

An American gentleman, whose name is 
known to as many people as that of almost any 
other living character, gave me in writing a 
conversation he had with Arthur O'Connor in 
France in 1831. It is well known that 0''Con- 
nor had the blood of kings in his veins, and 
was to have been king of Ireland had the rebel- 
lion succeeded. But, before I go on, let me 
stop one moment to contemplate a single point. 
If the leaders of that bold enterprise had suc- 
ceeded, how different would have been their 
fame ! O'Connor, M'Nevin, Emmett ! what 
names ! I venerateTHose^^men as I do the 
Signers of the Declaration of Independence. 
All they wanted to ensure the immortality of 
their fame was the same success. Said the 
venerable Dr. Abercrombie, who died but a 
short time ago in Philadelphia, in a letter of 
his I once saw, " George Washington was but 
a successful rebel." So true is that saying of 



176 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the old Grecian sage, " If thou art wise, thou 
mayst take the credit of thy wisdom ; if immor- 
tal in thy fame, thank the gods for that." 

Said O'Connor to his American companion, 
in the French diligence, " I have no acquaint- 
ance with O'Connell. I was driven from Ire- 
land in 1794; but I think I know Irish char- 
acter, and I have watched O'Connell long and 
anxiously. I have fastened my hopes for Ire- 
land in a measure upon him ; but I have been 
afraid of him, I confess. If he does not accept 
office, title, or emolument under Earl Grey or 
the Whigs, 1 think he will prove himself invul- 
nerable in truth, for they will ply him with 
tetnptation. We have but a few instances on 
reddrd, in which such men have not had their 
price. And when they have raised a great 
deal of dust and popular commotion about the 
people's rights, and become sufficiently con- 
spicuous to be annoying to the English Gov- 
ernment, the Throne has generally been able, 
by large official bribes, to silence their clamour, 
and leave them to stand, in the latter part of 
life, as violators in their own persons of all the 
principles by which they gained their ascen- 
dency. O'Connell has been tempted already, 
and he will be tempted still. If he now resists 
all the blandishments of power, in the shape of 
official distinction, he will take his station 



O CONNELL NOT TO BE BRIBED. 177 

among the few great, incorruptible men of the 
earth, and ultimately liberate Ireland. How- 
many men who began well have at last been 
wrecked on the shoals of royal favour, and be- 
come monuments of their own disgrace. If the 
people were only as acute in their discernment 
as they should be, such men would be monu- 
ments forever afterward, of public derision and 
profound contempt, both to those who bought 
them and to those who were sold." 

There is great wisdom in these words of the 
exiled O'Connor. . O'Connell has always been 
a sort of an Ishmaelite : "his hand has been 
against every man, and every man's hand 
against him ;" but an Ishmaelite, withal, in 
whom there is no guile. 

At an early period he cast his anchor into 
the sea of popular rights ; and he has never at- 
tempted to weigh it, and moor himself in any 
of the snug-harbours of royal patronage. His 
self-respect and love of great principles have 
sustained him against the collected power of 
the British empire, which has not wealth enough 
to purchase his defection from truth, or to silence 
his defence of it ; nor strength enough to drive 
him from his proud and dizzy height of con- 
troversy. 

At one period of his life, while he stood, al- 
most single-handed, fighting the great battle of 



178 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Irish rights, he fell within the meshes of a cer- 
tain penal act, and was prosecuted by the 
Crown. He met the prosecution with all the 
firmness of a brave man. But the law under 
which he was indicted expired, by lapse of 
time, before the government were ready for 
the final trial ; and, farther, they were aware, 
no doubt, their victory would be odious even 
should they gain one by means of a law which 
would expire by its own limitation before the 
culprit could be brought to punishment. This 
only won him new laurels, and was by many 
regarded as a victory achieved by the " Irish 
Giant." 

An unavailing prosecution has always been 
regarded in Ireland as the most efficient and 
available capital for a political candidate, and 
O'Connell has found it so. 

He is an Irish museum : his memory is a 
treasure-house of all that is wonderful in her 
history, remarkable in her progress, or extraor- 
dinary in her idiosyncrasy. In all that he says, 
he is queer, quaint, matter-of-fact, exact ; hap- 
py in illustration, whether by accident or a 
high moral inference. He is the great mouth- 
piece of Ireland ; and, with the weight of all 
her interests upon his shoulders, he stands the 
high witness, testifying at the bar of mankind, 
of wrongs long endured, of redress long defer- 



o'connell's benevolence. 179 

red. He seems not only to be a moral abridg- 
ment of all that is extraordinary in the character 
or history of Ireland, but has been baptized 
into a great relationship to universal humanity. 
For there is no effort made on earth for the ad- 
vancement of human happiness Mrhich has not 
his sympathy. 

In looking over a number of the Tralee Mer- 
cury of 1839 I saw the following notice : 
" Famine is spreading on the west coast of 
Ireland. Mr. O'Connell, in sending to our 
care £150 for the poor, thus writes : ' It is very 
important to mix coarse flour with the pota- 
toes, to prevent diseases arising from the bad- 
ness of the potatoes and the small quantity of 
them. Order in ten or twenty tons of oatmeal 
at my expense. In short, while I have a shil- 
ling, don't spare me. The visitation is aw- 
ful !' " 

Almost every day some new instance of 
O'Connell's noble generosity comes to my 
knowledge. His heart is the home of Irish 
joy and Irish sorrow. While he goes in 
mourning for the injuries inflicted upon his 
mother-land, he is never so subdued as not to 
resent the insults that oppression has heaped 
upon her. Baffled he may be for a moment, 
but he seems to rise with new energies from ev- 
ery conflict, and borrows a power from contro- 



( 



180 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

versy which he never could have gained from 
reflection. In his strife with the elements of 
human passion, he has learned what he never 
would have done by theorizing in the silent 
chamber of study. 

I have heard the best speakers in Great 
Britain, and some of them under circumstances 
the most likely to inspire eloquence : O'Connell 
excels them all. I do not suppose that, under 
any circumstances, he could produce such an 
effect in Parliament as did Brougham when he 
came in collision with Canning : he does not 
possess his mighty intellectual power. But I 
do not believe there is a man in England who 
can so completely control a popular assem- 
bly. If it is known he is to address a public 
meeting, it matters not where it is to assemble, 
or what is its object, the house is sure to be 
crowded. The last meeting of the World's 
Convention was held in Exeter Hall, which is 
the largest public room in Great Britain. It 
will seat six thousand, and on this occasion 
seven thousand were jammed into it. This 
Hall is the great arena of the popular benevo- 
lent feeling of England. It is always the scene 
of excitement and commotion ; for although the 
English are cold and phlegmatic in the inter- 
course of every- day life, yet they never come 
together in large numbers without great enthu- 



THE LIBERATOR IN EXETER HALL. 181 

siasm. All the benevolent societies depend 
upon great meetings for raising money to carry- 
on their operations, and exciting an interest in 
their objects. 

The Duke of Sussex, uncle to the queen, 
was to preside at this meeting ; and the anxiety 
among all classes to attend was very great. 
All eyes had for many days been fixed upon 
the Convention. The London and provincial 
journals had reported all the principal speech- 
es. Thousands had made application at Free- 
masons' Hall, only to be turned away. But 
the chief interest clustered around the last meet- 
ing. It was said that many thousands came to 
the Hall after the house was filled : carriage af- 
ter carriage rolled up with distinguished per- 
sons ; but, as none could enter except by ticket, 
and those who had secured seats were unwilling 
to give them up, their carriages rolled away. 

The platform seats one thousand ; and a 
greater number of illustrious men were seen 
upon it that day than had been seen there . 
for many years. It was a sort of Pentecostal ^ 
day of freedom. Almost every civilizeS nation 
on the globe was represented in the persons of 
some of its most distinguished philanthropists : 
all assembled for one common object, and all 
were fired with enthusiasm, kindled by the sub- 
lime idea of emancipating the world. 

Vol. II.— Q 



183 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

On the right of the Duke sat M. Guizot, the 
French ambassador, Mrs. Elizabeth Frey, the 
Duchess of Sutherland, and the American del- 
egation. On the left a large number of beau- 
tiful peeresses, who had condescended to come 
and be gazed at by the World's Convention, 
display their diamond necklaces and bracelets, 
and hear something about humanity. At the 
hour appointed the Duke appeared and took the 
chair. He was received with every demon- 
stration of regard and affection. The cheering 
lasted for several minutes. His Royal High- 
ness made an excellent speech ; spake of " the 
honour conferred upon a member of the royal 
family in being permitted to preside over an as- 
sembly so illustrious," &c. ; the whole speech 
perhaps as democratic as any you ever heard 
in a '• log cabin." 

At the close of his remarks there was a mur- 
mur and a bustle on the farthest side of the 
platform ; every eye was turned in that direc- 
tion, and the body of the house was still, to see 
the countenance or catch the name of the new- 
comer. The crowd opened and the murmur 
began to spread. At length the fine form of 
O'Connell appeared, and in one moment the 
whole assembly rose to their feet, and from 
every part of that vast meeting a burst of ap- 
plause came forth which was almost deafening. 






DUKE OF SUSSEX AND THE "AGITATOR." 183 

As he advanced to the front of the platform, 
the Duke shook him cordially by the hand, and 
O'Connell acknowledged the reception with a 
bow which would not have dishonoured the 
Halls of St. James. 

The enthusiasm of the meeting exceeded all 
description. His countenance was probably 
familiar to almost every one present ; and not 
one in that great congregation, from the Royal 
Chairman to the poorest and most distant indi- 
vidual in the hall, but joined in the acclama- 
tion. Cheering, clapping, pounding, stamping, 
hallooing, swinging of hats, bonnets, and white 
handkerchiefs, blended in one grand chorus 
to welcome the Liberator of Ireland. The ap- 
plause swelled and broke among the arches 
like successive peals of thunder. 

Several times I thought the cheering would 
cease ; it grew fainter and fainter, till it almost 
died away. But again it swelled up wilder 
and louder than ever ; and it was full ten min- 
utes before it subsided. O'Connell stood with 
his hat in his hand, bowing to the assembly with 
all the grace of a courtier. 

At last the venerable Duke rose to call the 
meeting to order. But the meeting would not 
be called to order ; the shouts came up wilder 
than ever ; and the old Duke, seeing he could 
not control that mighty sea of passion, was irre- 



184 GLORy AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

sistibly borne away by it himself; and turning 
to Q'Connell with a smile, clapped his neat 
white hands. 

It is impossible for a person to form, without 
having witnessed it, any correct idea of the im- 
mense enthusiasm that prevailed. I never saw 
so splendid an assembly nor so unmerciful a 
jam. Poor Mrs. Opie stood near the platform, 
where she seemed to be almost crowded to 
death. I had still one ticket for the platform, 
and being seated near her, caught her eye and 
threw it to her. She returned the compliment 
by a smile, and shook her head, signifying it 
came too late. She was at the mercy of the 
crowd, and probably could not have moved 
twelve inches to have saved her life. 

There were many fine speeches, and a deep 
interest was kept up from ten until five o'clock 
— seven hours. But not one of them could be 
compared to O'Connell's. It was a copious 
outpouring of pure Irish wit and genuine, large 
humanity. He was in his element ; perfectly 
at home. He begins slowly, and gradually un- 
winds his hands. He uses them sparingly, but 
with consummate art, expression, and elegance. 
His whole action is chaste, tasteful, and effect- 
ive. Yet it is nothing to his utterance. His 
voice is the richest and of the greatest compass 
I ever heard. The variety of intonation is in- 



CHARACTER OP HIS ELOQUENCE. 186 

finite, and the tasteful and skilful management 
of it perfect. Every syllable is articulated with 
the most careful precision, and his general ca- 
dences are sweet, rather plaintive, and most 
musical. The speech was a long one, and yet 
it appeared, such was its relief, not to occu- 
py above a quarter of an hour. Every sen- 
tence was cheered, and every sentence Avas a 
point, a palpable hit. The very manner in 
which it was delivered gave it significancy. 
He began playfully, and in the simplest and 
most natural manner subsided into his subject. 
He used not one argument that it required any 
previous knowledge of his subject to under- 
stand. He urged not a single plea which any 
ordinary intellect, however unprepared and un- 
informed, could not at once and perfectly ap- 
preciate. The matter was so simplified in his 
hands ; the plainness, directness, and straight- 
forward common sense of the appeal were so 
irresistible, that we are sure many whom all the 
argumentation of an economist could not have 
moved, were entirely satisfied by O'Connell. 

He began in a gamesome humour ; he con- 
tinued argumentively, in thought beautifully 
pointed ; and as he gradually proceeded to the 
more serious plea for justice and humanity, the 
sentences became more delicately polished and 
the cadences more nicely musical. That pecu- 



186 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND, 

liar murmuring and earnest plaintiveness which 
mark O'Connell's serious speech, here be- 
came more striking ; and as he talked of Ire- 
land (for he cannot make a speech without al- 
lusion to the sufferings of his native land), and 
the widow's cry, and the orphan's tear, " the op- 
pressor's wrong and proud man's contumely," it 
was plain there was not one person in that vast 
assembly, comprehending representatives from 
nearly every civilized nation on earth, who was 
not brought completely under his sway. 

For the first half hour I was too much riveted 
by the speech to think of looking around the 
hall to observe its effect upon others ; and when 
at length I brolie away for a moment from the 
charm, I did not see an eye that was not fas- 
tened upon O'Connell, thousands of them now 
wet with tears : the next instant the whole house 
was convulsed with laughter. 

I do not believe there is a man on earth who 
could have excited the same enthusiasm, nor 
that the young Queen of England would have 
received a warmer-hearted welcome had she 
appeared on that platform. I could not but 
think that such a reception must have been 
more grateful to O'Connell's heart than the 
brightest diadem. 

He has richly earned his fame ; the people 
know and love him well : he has never desert- 



HIS HATRED OF OPPRESSION. 187 

ed their cause. In fighting for Irish liberty he / 
has achieved much for England. Every blow V 
w^hich has fallen from his strong arm upon the 
hoary head of tyranny has been for universal 
humanity. 

He has been censured by Americans for 
"slandering the United States," as it is said. C^ 
True, he has used most violent language towards 
us when he spoke of slavery. I certainly cannot 
approve of this : at least, all violent and insult- 
ing epithets should be spared. But, then, it 
should be remembered that his Irish heart can- 
not think of slavery anywhere without deep in- 
dignation, and that he has never said harsher 
things of American slavery than he has of sla- 
very in the East and West Indies : he is con- 
sistent. Wherever oppression exists he feels a 
generous sympathy for the slave, and deals out 
his withering sarcasm without mercy upon the 
oppressor. It is not to be supposed that an 
Irishman should see anything very praisewor- 
thy in a system which enslaves the African, 
when the iron of tyranny has entered so deep- 
ly into his own soul. Besides, it is quite nat- 
ural for us to be sensitive on this question. It 
is confessed on all hands to be a " delicate 
question ;" and then, perhaps, as Colton says, 
" Our best way to defend ourselves is, doubt- 
less, to go earnestly about removing the scan- 



5 



188 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

dal." O'Connell cannot speak of oppression 
tamely, no matter where it is found. He pours 
forth his rebukes here at home with the same 
boldness and severity. 

He is feared by his political enemies, and 
well he may be ; for there is no man, or party 
of men, who can exercise such power over the 
British people. Since the day he came into 
public life, he has been constantly rising. 

It is impossible to say what may yet be 
O'Connell's destiny. It must and will be glo- 
rious : but I refer rather to the station he may 
yet be called to occupy. He will never accept 
office at the expense of his principles ; but 
troublous times will come upon the British em- 
pire. The crisis of May, 1832, is not the last 
dark day England shall see. The British peo- 
ple will endure tyranny from their rulers long- 
er than most Americans suppose ; but they 
will not endure it always. There is a point 
beyond which an Enghsh monarch cannot go ; 
when, if he advances one step, he does it at the 
peril of his crown, or something to him of still 
greater worth. 

The people of England are loyal ; they hon- 
our the ancient throne, and its proud and splen- 
did nobility. Idolatry of rank and respect for 
time-honoured usages are strong barriers of 
protection for the crown and the aristocracy ; 



PROGRESS OF THE DEMOCRATIC PRINCIPLE. 189 

but the most superficial observer cannot fail 
to see that their hold upon the popular mind 
is growing weaker every day. And as the 
Democratic principle, which is now silently 
and rapidly working its way into the hearts of 
the people, shall become more generally diffu- 
sed, they will not be lulled to sleep by a Re- 
form Bill like that of '32, which only lifted the / 
veil to show them their rights, and then deny ■^ 
them. 

Let not the Conservatives flatter themselves 
that they can smother the prayers of the peo- 
ple for a century to come, because they have 
successfully done so for five centuries past. 
Humanity is everywhere coming forth from the 
deep eclipse of ages of tyranny ; and in their 
onward progress, liberty and truth will sunder 
every chain that now fetters the race. It is 
the day-dream of fools, that this great revolu- 
tion can be stopped ; and that man or govern- 
ment which does not advance with the prog- 
ress of Liberty, will be crushed beneath the 
advancing columns of the people. 

This matter is understood by the great lib- 
eral party in England. Said the eloquent 
Macauley just before the Reform Bill was 
passed, "The time is at last come when Re- 
formers must legislate fast, because bigots 
would not legislate early ; when Reformers 



c 

f 



190 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

are compelled to legislate in excitement, be- 
cause bigots would not do so at a more auspi- 
cious moment. Bigots would not walk with 
sufficient speed, nay, they could not be pre- 
vailed upon to move at all ; and now the Re- 
formers must run for it." 

The rampant lion may be an emblem of the 
power of the government ; but the couchant lion 
is an emblem no less significant of the power 
of the people. " Nations," says the old prov- 
erb, " are judged in this world." Thrones of 
tyranny cannot escape the tribunal of revolu- 
tion ; and when judgment comes to be passed, 
the misrule and oppression of whole genera- 
tions are brought into the account. Upon the 
head of poor Louis XVI. the crimes of all his 
royal ancestors fell : wo to the monarch who 
shall sit upon the throne of Britain when her 
day of reckoning comes ; for if the govern- 
ment of England is destined to come down in 
the storm of revolution, it will be such a storm 
as never yet swept over this Island. She can 
be saved from such a crisis only by granting the 
people justice — liberty. But this, it is to be 
feared, will not be done until too late. And 
when that mighty movement of the people that 
will precede and introduce The Great Reform 
Bill (which mnst so surely come ere long), shall 
begin to spread itself sullenly and darkly, like 



THE PILOT OF THE NEXT STORM. 191 

an advancing cloud, over England ; and the 
people shall wake up amid the thunders of N 
revolution, to take possession of their rights, J 
there is no man in the empire to whom all eyes 
will so instinctively turn for help as Daniel 
O'Connell. 

Trifling differences may now separate him 
from the great Whig party ; he may keep him- 
self, because of their excesses, aloof from the 
Chartists, who are, after all, made of the same 
stuff, badly put together ; but a crisis may come 
in a few short weeks — a single election may 
effect it — when all lines of distinction shall be 
trampled down, and Reformers of every class 
rush together in glorious union, to work the 
emancipation of the millions of Britain. If 
O'Connell is living when that day comes, he 
will be " the pilot then that will weather the 
storm." All will range themselves under his 
banner, as the strongest and best-tried friend 
of the people. 

From the day O'Connell entered Parlia- 
ment, the repeal of the Union of Great Britain 
with Ireland has been the great object of his 
life. Indeed, this has always been the darling 
purpose of his soul ; and, if he lives, he will 
most assuredly see it accomplished. 

[Ireland is now (September 20th, 1841), since 
the recent elections and the defeat of O'Con- 



192 GLORV AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

nell in Dublin, almost driven to madness. A 
few days ago I received a letter from an Irish 
barrister in Dublin, who has been in Parlia- 
ment, and has, perhaps, as good a knowledge 
of Irish affairs as any other man, who, in speak- 
ing of the state of his country, says : " You can- 
not imagine how deeply the heart of Ireland 
has been stirred by recent events. The de- 
feat of O'Connell in Dublin, the triumph of the 
vile Tories, and the prospect that they will ar- 
rest the spirit of reform in Ireland, have pro- 
duced such a state of feeling in this island, as 
has not existed before for many years. We 
are calculating with as much coolness as Irish- 
men can, the probabilities of a civil war and 
its results. Ireland never was so well prepared 
for her last great struggle as she is now. Bul- 
Aver says that two thirds of the British army of 
100,000 men are Irish ; and that the greater pro- 
portion of them are Catholics. Is it to be sup- 
posed that they would be ready to join in sup- 
pressing the liberties of their fellow-countrymen 
and co-religionists ? Or is it supposed that 
soldiers who know so well as Irishmen do how 
to perfonn the three great duties of a soldier's 

life, FIGHTING, MARCHING, and STARVING ) aud 

whose superiority in health, vigour, and hardi- 
ness of constitution is acknoAvledged, will be 
crushed when they go forth under deeply en- 



LETTER FROM AN IRISH BARRISTER. 193 

raged national feeling, to fight for all that is 
worth living for in this world ? 

" I know the civil, military, and naval power 
of England is great — her wealth is enormous. 
But this is not enough; she must have justice 
on her side before she can conquer Ireland very 
easily, when Ireland once rises in her strength, 
and swears by her patron saint she will be free. 

" Besides, the police of Ireland, which is a 
well-disciplined, well-armed body, are almost 
to a man Catholic Irishmen, and as little to be 
relied on in the case of a popular disturbance 
as was the National Guard of Toulouse. For 
one, I do not wish to see this green island cov- 
ered with revolutionary blood ; but I think with 
O'Connell, that anything is better than injustice. 

" England loves to talk about insurrections 
among your slaves ; and this is the answer she 
makes when you speak of M' Leod, of the North- 
eastern Boundary, or the Columbia River. She 
is very brave and humane withal : she will land 
a troop of mercenaries (for she cannot expect 
Ireland will invade ' the home of her emigrants, 
the asylum of her oppressed') to place the torch 
of insurrection in the hands of your negro 
slaves. 

" But it is more than probable that she would 
not have prosecuted her humane enterprise very 
far before two things happened — Brother Jon- 

VoL. IL— R 



194 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

athan would likely place some obstacles in her 
way not to be sneezed at, and the fat would be 
in the fire in Ireland — perhaps 100,000,000 of 
our oppressed and insulted fellow-subjects in 
the East Indies might require some attention. 
Then, there is the Celestial Empire and its war- 
junks; and the whole continent of Europe; 
and the patriots in Canada are not all dead or 
transported. It will be wise, at least, for Eng- 
land just to let other nations alone, and grant 
justice to Ireland. 

" I send you O'Connell's ' Declaration' and 
speech at the great meeting of our National 
Repeal Association of Ireland, recently held in 
the Corn Exchange. The Declaration is wor- 
thy to be hung up in the Temple of Liberty by 
the side of your glorious Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, and his speech is the best he ever 
made : both are charged with the real Irish fire. 
It was his first public appearance in Dublin 
since his defeat. I hope every American will 
read them both." 

I did intend to publish two or three letters 
on the Irish Question, which I wrote from 
England last summer ; but I shall render a 
much higher service to the reader, and to the 
cause of liberty in Ireland, by extracting the 
following glowing paragraphs from O'Connell's 
Declaration and sjeech. They are luminous 



O CONNELLS DECLARATION. 195 

With truth and philanthropy, and I feel that I 
cannot do so great an injustice to my readers 
as not to substitute them for my own observa- 
tions : 
"DECLARATION OF GRIEVANCES AND RIGHTS. 
" TO THE PEOPLE OF IRELAND. 
" ' Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not 

Who would be free, themselves must strike the blow ? 

Can Gaul or Muscovite relieve you ? No ! 

By your own right arms your freedom must be wrought.' 

" Corn Exchange, 27th of July, 1841. 
" Fellow-Countrymen, 

" The Loyal National Repeal Association of 
Ireland respectfully lay before you the follow- 
ing declaration of the rights of Irishmen, and 
statement of the wrongs and oppression which 
Ireland has endured and yet endures. 

"We lay before you a plain, unexaggerated 
proposition of historical fact, or of matter now 
existing. We do not desire to mitigate any 
thing, but we are determined not to exaggerate. 
The plain statement of facts will have a more 
powerful and permanent effect than any imagi- 
native description. 

" First. No country upon the face of the 
globe ever inflicted upon any other country 
such wrongs and iniquitous oppressions as Eng- 
land has inflicted upon Ireland. 

" Secondly. No country upon the face of the 
earth ever sustained and endured from another 



196 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

country so much wrong and oppression as Ire- 
land from England. 

" Thirdly. No country in the world ever vio- 
lated towards any other country its plighted 
faith and solemn treaties so often and so foully 
as England has done towards Ireland ; from 
the massacre of Mulloghmaston to the treaty of 
Limeric, and from the treaty of Limeric to the 
unanimous pledge given to Ireland by King, 
Lords, and Commons in 1834, at the conclusion 
of the first debate on the repeal of the Union. 

" Fourthly. So far from having relaxed in 
the antipathy to the Irish people, and their ha- 
tred of the religion of the Irish nation, the 
English people now exhibit more venomous 
virulence and acrimony than ever they did in 
the worst periods of our history. 

" Fifthly. Another fact : that the disposition 
to insult the Irish people is not confined to any 
party holding the reigns of power, is demon- 
strated by the fact that the motion to place the 
franchises of England and Ireland upon an 
equality was opposed by Lord Morpeth with as 
much determination as it could be by Sir Rob- 
ert Peel or even Scorpion Stanley. 

*' Sixthly. That the hatred of Ireland is not 
confined to any government, but is a popular 
and national hatred, is proved by this fact, that 
the English constituencies have returned to the 



O CONNELL S DECLARATION. 197 

present Parliament an overwhelming majority 
of enemies to the Irish people, and especially 
to the religion of that people. 

" Seventhly. That the English aristocracy 
have stimulated, and are at the head of, the 
present hostile movement against Ireland. 
They have used their influence in affording a 
highly lucrative patronage to those organs of 
public opinion w^hich are the most atrocious 
calumniators of Ireland and of Catholicity. 

" Eighthly. That the aristocracy of Eng- 
land, the leaders of the present hostile move- 
ment against Ireland, have employed enormous 
masses of their wealth in the most profligate 
corruption of the English constituences, in or- 
der to procure the return to Parliament of the 
inveterate enemies to Ireland and to Catho- 
licity. 

Ninthly. That this wicked hostility to Ire- 
land and to her Catholic people is vicious al- 
most to a pitch of demoniacal insanity, inasmuch 
as it is exhibited at a period when the Irish 
people, instead of meriting this satanic hostil- 
ity, are in reality deserving of the respect and 
gratitude of the English aristocracy of wealth 
and rank. 

" Tenthly. That the claim of the Irish peo- 
ple to such respect and gratitude is founded 
upon these plain facts : that Ireland never was 
R2 



198 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

SO generally, or for such a length of time, tran- 
quil, or stained by so few retaliatory outrages, 
as she is now, and has been during the reform 
administration ; and that the Irish people have 
not only refused all communion with the torch- 
and-dagger Chartists, but actually demonstrated 
their readiness to protect the throne and Con- 
stitution at the expense of their lives against 
those misguided persons. 

" Eleventhly. That the diabolical enmity of 
the English aristocracy and electors is still far- 
ther enhanced by the fact, that it is exhibited 
in contravention of the mild and benevolent 
virtues, and just and patriotic intentions of the 
wise and illustrious Lady who fills the throne 
of these realms, and whom may God long pre- 
serve ! 

" Twelfthly. That another aggravation of the 
unprovoked and insane hatred of the English 
aristocracy and electors to the people of Ire- 
land, is to be found in the contrast with Scot- 
land ; the majority of the Scotch people being 
decidedly favourable to justice to Ireland. 

" Thirteenthly. The insanity of the hatred of 
til. English aristocracy and electors towards 
Ireland is farther demonstrated by the fact, that 
their re-establishment of the Orange oppress- 
ions and massacres in Ireland will, by inevita- 
ble consequence, diminish the strength of the 



THE TORY ASCENDENCY. 199 

British empire and its influence upon foreign 
nations, by rendering the people of Ireland 
justly discontented, and unwilling to contribute 
in purse or in person to the support of such a 
government. 

" Fourteenthly. That under the administra- 
tion conducted by Peel and Lord Stanley, it 
will be imprudent, and, indeed, utterly unsafe, 
to call out the Irish militia, as that force must 
necessarily be constituted in the proportion of 
ninety-nine Catholics to one of every other re- 
ligion. 

" Fifteenthly. That foreign powers, in deal- 
ing with the Peel-Stanley administration, will 
avail themselves of the weakness and wicked- 
ness of that administration, occasioned by their 
misgovernment of Ireland. 

" Sixteenthly. That the conduct of the Tory 
aristocracy and electors in England is thus 
manifestly marked by that insane self-delusion 
and political extravagance which appear from 
history to precede, as they presage, some signal 
national vengeance of the Almighty. 

" "We call the attention of the people of Ire- 
land to the consideration of the facts we thus 
exhibit ; we lay these facts before that people, 
not so much to stimulate their exertions as to 
guide and to direct their conduct ; to inspire 
hope, and not to generate despair ; to suggest 



200 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

to the natural shrewdness and sagacity of the 
Irish nation the impossibility of the continuance 
of a system of administration so unjust, so ini- 
quitous, and, at the same time, so insane, as that 
now threatened by the supporters of Peel and 
Stanley. 

" We now proceed to the enumeration of the 
grievances of which the Irish people complain. 

" First. Our first grievance is, that Ireland 
has not obtained an equalization of privileges, 
franchises, and rights with the people of Eng- 
land and Scotland. 

" Secondly. The grievance is much aggra- 
vated by the fact that Ireland was deprived of 
her natural protection — a native parliament — 
and burdened with the weight of what is call- 
ed a union, without being such in reality. 

" Thirdly. The giant practical grievance of 
Ireland is, that the ecclesiastical state revenues 
of the nation are enjoyed by the church of a 
small minority. 

" Fourthly. This giant grievance is much 
aggravated by the fact that the clergy of the 
dominant church are in general virulent ene- 
mies of the Irish people, hostile to their rights, 
and calumnious of themselves and of their re- 
ligion. 

" Fifthly. Another great grievance of which 
the Irish justly complain, is the scanty and in- 



IRISH GRIEVANCES. 201 

adequate measure of corporate reform doled 
out to them by the United Parliament, in a man- 
ner much more restricted than the corporate 
reform enjoyed by the English and the Scotch. 

" Sixthly. The next great and outrageous 
grievance of which we complain is, that the 
elective franchise in Ireland is restricted by law 
to a miserable fraction of the Irish people. 
Practically speaking, the franchise is not en- 
joyed by three per cent, of the male adult pop- 
ulation : while from 25 to 30 per cent, of the ->^ 
male adult population of England and Scotland^ / 
enjoy the elective franchise. 

" Seventhly. The next great and outrageous 
grievance sustained by the people of Ireland is, 
that they are inadequately represented in Par- 
liament. The Irish ought, upon a calculation 
of comparative revenue and population, to pos- 
sess more than 170 representatives. They have 
but 105. 

" Eighthly. The next great grievance, and 
one of the most emaciating nature, is the enor- 
mous increase of the absentee drain, occasioned 
by the Union, to the amount altogether of prob- 
ably more than four millions of pounds sterling 
per annum. 

" Ninthly. That this evil is greatly aggra- 
vated by the surplus revenue of Ireland being 
also remitted to England, to the amount of near 



202 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

two millions sterling per annum, thus exhaust- 
ing Ireland by the payment of a tribute of up- 
ward of five millions sterling per annum. 

" Tenthly. That the greatest — the master 
grievance — the source of all others to Ireland, 
is the Legislative Union ; a union brought 
about by force, fraud, treachery, corruption, 
and bloodshed. 

" It ought to sink deep into the minds of the 
English aristocracy, that no people on the face 
of the earth pay to another such a tribute for 
permission to live, as Ireland pays to England 
in absentee rents and surplus revenues. There 
is no such instance ; there is nothing like it in 
ancient or modern history. There is not, and 
there never was, such an exhausting process 
applied to any country as is thus applied to 
Ireland. It is a solecism in political economy, 
inflicted upon Ireland alone, of all the nations 
that are or ever were. Under heaven there is 
not, there cannot be, any remedy save one; 
and that remedy can be discovered and work- 
ed out by an Irish parliament, and by nothing 
but an Irish parliament. 

" We have stated the grievances which Ire- 
land endures, and under which she actually 
suffers ; grievances unparalleled in any other 
country. 

" Yes, fellow-countrymen, it is, alas ! but too 



I 



IRISH GRIEVANCES. 803 

true that these grievances, w^hich ought to sa- 
tiate the malignity of fiends, are not sufficient 
to satisfy the acrimonious virulence of the 
Orange Tory party. That party audaciously 
threaten to inflict upon the Irish nation the 
following additional calamities : 

" First. They intend to carry into full effect 
the Scorpion Bill of Stanley to annihilate the 
elective franchise in Ireland. They say they 
w^ill have the power, and you know they have 
the inclination, to annihilate the representation 
of Ireland, or to reduce it to a mere mockery, 
controlled and possessed by the high Orange- 
ists. 

" Secondly. The Peel-Stanley party add in- 
sult to injury. They declare that the people 
of Ireland are such ' villanous perjurers' that 
they justly forfeit all right to adequate repre- 
sentation. 

" Thirdly. The Stanley-Peel party declare 
they will fill the bench of justice with the most 
acrimonious partisans they can find ; with men 
who declare their conviction that the Irish are 
systematic perjurers, and that perjury is en- 
couraged by their religion. 

" Fourthly. The Peel-Stanley party declare 
that they will not only thus deprive the Catholics 
of Ireland of all hope or chance of justice from 
the superior courts, but that they will forcibly 



204 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

compel the Irish people to submit to such in- 
justice. 

" Fifthly. The Stanley-Peel party declare 
that they will select their sheriffs from the most 
violent Orange partisans from each county and 
city in Ireland. 

" Sixthly. The Peel-Stanley party declare 
that they will restore the practice, some time 
gone by, of packing juries in all criminal cases, 
and allow no man to remain on the criminal 
jury panel but partisans of their own religion 
and politics. 

"Seventhly. The Stanley-Peel party declare 
that they will correct the list of magistrates by 
striking out several impartial men, and adding 
to it clergymen of the Established Church, and 
every virulent Orange partisan they can pro- 
cure. 

" Eighthly. The Peel-Stanley party declare 
that the people of Ireland must submit to all 
these additional indignities and iniquities, and 
that no efforts, however constitutional and legal, 
to mitigate those evils, or to obtain relief, will 
be permitted by the civil or military authorities. 

"Ninthly. The Stanley-Peel party declare 
that the press in Ireland shall be subdued ; that 
in the present iniquitous state of the libel law, 
they will meet every unpalatable truth by a 
state prosecution; that they will prevent the 



OCONNELLS EXHORTATION TO PEACE. 205 

exposure of their crimes by all the inflictions 
which a bad law and partisan judges can pos- 
sibly furnish by the summary process of attach- 
ment, and by the equally vexatious, though 
more tedious proceeding by ex-officio informa- 
tion of indictment. 

" In fine, between present grievances and 
future oppressions, the object of the Peel- 
Stanley party is to deprive the people of Ire- 
land of all constitutional channels of exertion, 
and of every ray of hope, and ultimately to 
force them, if possible, into open insurrection. 

" We caution you, beloved friends, not to be 
provoked into any such course. Your bitter 
and unrelenting enemies would be delighted 
could they drive you into insurrectionary cour- 
ses and violent resistance. You could not 
gratify your enemies more than by adopting 
such a course. A stronger argument cannot be 
used to induce you to avoid it, than the certain 
knowledge that you could not possibly please 
your mortal Orange enemies more than by vio- 
lating the law, or committing any outrage. 
You are organized, and you must continue to 
be so : you are undisciplined, and you must 
continue to be so : you are unarmed, and you 
must continue to be so. England is at peace 
with all Europe and America. The Orange 
party, once in power, could, under such circum- 

Voi. II._S 



206 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Stances, pour into Ireland more than 100,000 
of the best-armed, best-disciplined, and bravest 
troops in the world. They would be irresistible 
in the field, while the dastard Orangemen, of 
no use in the day of combat, would gloat upon 
the work of massacre, of female violation, and 
every other crime which the defeated and de- 
fenceless could endure from the malignity of 
human fiends. 

" Do not, therefore, we most earnestly and 
solemnly conjure you, do not gratify your ene- 
mies by committing any outrage ; do not give 
them strength by committing any breach of the 
law. 

" Remember, and keep constantly before 
your eyes, the leading maxim, the very basis 
of the Loyal Repeal Association, that ' whoev- 
er commits a crime strengthens the enemy.'' 

" But there is another, a higher, a nobler 
motive for your acquiescence in the present 
evils, and for your submission to the law. It is 
to be found in your affectionate, your dutiful, 
your most dutiful allegiance to your Illustrious 
Sovereign : may the great God of Heaven 
bless and protect her ! Should you be reckless 
of yourselves, yet recollect you owe a duty to 
HER and to your God, to secure the tranquillity 
of her throne, and to prevent the possibility of 
disfiguring her reign by the shedding of one 



o'connell's loyalty. 207 

drop of human blood. No political ameliora- 
tion was ever worth one drop of human blood. 
" Be tranquil then, fellow-countrymen ; be 
forbearing ; be enduring. But be not with- 
out HOPE ; on the contrary, be confident. 
Be full of the expectations of future, and not 
distant, triumphs. The Orange Tory reign, 
the Stanley-Peel domination cannot endure 
long. In its nature it must be transitory and 
evanescent. The evil times that approach can- 
not last long. Among the English people 
themselves Ireland has many active and zeal- 
ous friends. The friends of Ireland, to be sure, 
are comparatively few among the English peo- 
ple, yet, taken by themselves, they are numer- 
ous ; and if they be nol zealous, they are, at 
all events, sincere. Hope something from the 
existence of your English friends. 

" The majority of the Scottish nation are 
with you. Hope much from their zealous and 
spirited assistance. 

" The Queen, my friends — our nofcle Queen 
— heartily and sincerely desires to see justice 
done to Ireland ; your enemies are equally her 
enemies ; she is in their toils ; she wears their 
fetters. But with the blessing of heaven and 
the aid of God her bonds shall be broken — 
your enemies scattered ; and she shall be re- 
stored to the brilliant freedom of her majestic 
throne. 



208 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

" Be peaceable ; be orderly ; violate no law ; 
commit no offence. But while we conjure you 
to adopt this course in the voice of allegiance 
to the queen and reverence to your God, do 
we ask you to be acquiescent — silent — torpid ? 

" No, no ! a thousand times, no ! 

" On the contrary, we call upon you to rouse 
into action ; to be energetic, determined, per- 
severing ; lose no day, lose no hour in silent 
inactivity ; exert yourselves within the limits of 
the law, and in the channels of constitutional 
agitation, and no other. 

" Hold meetings ; register votes ; prepare 
petitions to Parliament. Tell that assembly 
manfully, and, through them, tell the civilized 
world, how you think and Avhat you feel. 

" Let every parish in Ireland simultaneously 
meet to address the Queen. Let us pledge all 
our lives and all we possess for the protection 
of her person and throne. Let us assure her 
that she may depend with the utmost certi- 
tude upon the "bravery and fidelity of her Irish 
people. 

" Whatever be the result, whether the Queen 
shall be allowed to select for her ministry friends 
of Ireland, or whether she shall be overpowered 
for a season by Tory corruption and intimida- 
tion, let our fidelity be unimpeachable, our al- 
legiance pure and unbroken : 



HOPE IN THE REPEAL. 209 



' True as the dial to the sun, 
Although it be not shone upon.' 



'J 



No despair — no hopelessness. On the contra- 
ry, be buoyant with hope and cheerful in your 
expectations. There is, fellow-countrymen, one 
great, one unfailing resource — one instrument 
of terror to the Orange Tories — of protection 
and success to the friends of Ireland — the peace- 
ful agitation of the repeal of the Union. 

" We know Ireland well. We know, by 
experience, the feelings and the wishes of the 
universal Irish people. We know that the 
fibres of their hearts are entwined around the 
restoration of the Irish Parliament. We know 
the enthusiasm of their souls for the repeal is 
animated and vivacious. 

" Every man of common sense must know 
that the only resource for permanent tranquilli- 
ty and prosperity to Ireland is to be found in 
the repeal of the Union. It is said that the re- 
peal is impracticable. Impracticable ! ! There 
is no such word in the vocabulary of a gener- 
ous, a moral, a religious, a brave people. 

" Impracticable ? To repeal an act of Par- 
liament ? Impracticable ? When that repeal 
is required by the overwhelming majority of a 
nation of near nine millions of human beings ? 
That which is really impracticable is to induce 
such a nation to continue to submit to the gross, 
S2 



210 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

glaring, iniquitous oppression and misrule of the 
Union. 

" Rally, then, with us, men of Ireland. Let 
every human being declare for the repeal. Let 
there be no parish without repealers and repeal 
wardens. Peaceably and constitutionally de- 
clare your determination hy enrolling yourselves 
in the Loyal National Repeal Association of 
Ireland. 

" There is no other means to prevent a sep- 
aration from England — ^from haughty, bigoted, 
tyrannical England — except the repeal of the 
Union. There is no other way to obtain pros- 
perity or liberty for Ireland but the repeal of 
the Union. 

" Let, then, one shout arise from the Giant's 
Causeway to Cape Clear ; from Connemara to 
the Hill of Howth let there be but one univer- 
sal voice upon the breeze of heaven, 
'hurrah for the repeal!!!' 

" Daniel O'Connell." 



Speech of Mr. O' Connell. 

* * * " "We have hitherto supported to our ut- 
most a ministry that have outlawed the repealers, 
and I am now going to Parliament to give that 
support for the last time. In the struggle which 
will ensue the Tories will obtain a victory over 



SPEECH OF O'CONNELL. 211 

them, and must then come into office, and from 
that time my connexion with the Whigs totally 
ends on the present basis. (Great cheering, and 
cries of hear, hear.) Let it be remembered 
what our support of the Whigs was. I have 
often ludicrously described it as Paddy with 
the broken pane. He stuffed his old hat into 
it, not to let in the light, for it would not do 
that, but to keep out the cold. (Laughter.) So 
it was with the Whigs. We supported them, 
not for any benefit they were doing to our cause, 
for they were going too slow for us, but to keep 
out the Tories. (Hear, hear.) 

" Yes, there is a movement going forward in 
the public mind : statesmen may mitigate or 
temper it ; they may make it proceed more 
slowly and cautiously ; they may put a drag on 
it to prevent its hurrying into a revolution ; but 
they cannot utterly stop it. (Hear, hear.) The 
human mind is in a state of expansion. Edu- 
cation itself is expanding it, and making the 
movement more general. (Hear.) Thousands 
are now beginning to read the newspapers that 
were before unable to do so ; and they are thus 
acquiring a relish for politics, and a greater 
keenness of appetite, too, from having no other 
source from which they could acquire any other 
relish. # # * * 

" The Tories have gained the ascendency in 



212 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the government, but that ascendency cannot 
continue long. (Hear, hear, and cheers.) I 
think it is utterly impossible that they continue 
long in power. (Hear, hear.) It is not in the 
nature of things that they should. Their own 
party disafFections cannot allow them to keep 
together ; the great links that now bind them 
are a national antipathy against the Irish, and 
a bigoted hatred towards the religion of Ire- 
land. (Hear, hear.) That chain must soon 
burst, and the result will be that the Tory fac- 
tion -v^ ill be scattered in the winds, the Radical 
reformers will obtain the helm, and England, 
Ireland, and Scotland will once again have a 
chance of ranking foremost in the history of the 
civilized world. (Hear, and loud cheers.) * * 
" Parliament is too long, and the period of 
its duration must, therefore, be reduced. (Hear, 
hear.) The principle on which the representa- 
tion is arranged must be also altered. It can- 
not be endured that Harwich, with its voters, is 
to have an equal number of representatives with 
Cork, with its 750,000 inhabitants. (Hear, 
hear.) Such a system cannot be suffered to 
continue longer, and it must, therefore, be re- 
formed in the first place, and the representation 
extended to the full limits that common sense 
will point out. The franchise must be also ex- 
tended) so as to afford an adequate representa- 



I 



FUTURE CAURSE OF o'cONNELL. 213 

tion for the whole people. Above all things, 
the ballot must be introduced. (Hear, hear, 
and cheers.) The ministry who shall have my 
support hereafter must purchase it. They must 
bribe me. (Laughter.) My bribe is extended 
suffrage ; my bribe is amended representation ; 
my bribe is the ballot ; my bribe is, shorten the 
duration of Parliament. (Cheers.) I will sup- 
port no ministry that does not promise to sup- 
port these measures. (Loud cheers.) 

" 'Tis time, full time, Heaven knows, that our 
rights and privileges be conceded to us'; and, 
unless I can find a ministry ready and willing 
to extend the franchise (for this is the utmost 
they can do — to universalize it were impracti- 
cable) ; to grant us a more rational and satis- 
factory representation ; to give us the ballot, 
the honest ballot, and with it short Parliaments 
(three years is, in my mind, a space quite suffi- 
ciently prolonged) : unless I suspect I can find 
a ministry determined to carry these measures 
as a matter of justice to the oppressed people, 
my place, at least, will be in the opposition for 
the rest of my parliamentary life. But, while 
I speak in this strain, imagine not that it is my 
purpose to abandon the repeal, or to mitigate 
in the minutest dearee the fervid zeal and ar- 
dour with which I have bound myself to follow 
up that glorious cause. (Great cheernig.) Nev- 



214 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

er more deeply than at the present moment was 
it the unalterable conviction of my soul that 
there is not, there was not, nor can there ever 
be, hope for Ireland in anything but the repeal 
of the legislative act of Union. (Continued 
cheers.) This great national fact is clearly 
manifested by the course of conduct which 
England is at this moment pursuing. (Hear.) 

*M. ^ ^ .Af. 

•7^ It* 'Jt' •!> 

" He instanced York then ; but York, to its 
eternal dishonour be it spoken, has discarded 
the most amiable and talented man of all who 
sit in the British House of Commons, in the 
person of Lord Morpeth. (Hear, hear.) Well, 
then, I now emphatically repeat what I have 
before uttered again and again, that in English 
hearts we vainly look for sympathy. In the 
last number of the Weekly Chronicle, a paper 
of immense circulation, said to be edited by 
Mr. Ward, the member for Sheffield, a gentle- 
man of no ordinary talent, I find it avowed that 
the great mainspring of Peel's policy — the head 
and front of his political system, and that of his 
party — is hatred to Ireland. (Hear, hear.) 
What a motive for a statesman ! What a vile, 
what a hateful, what an infernal motive to 
prompt the words and actions of a mighty na- 
tion. (Loud cheering.) For shame! for shame! 
Oh ! can there be anything more degrading to 



ENGLISH BIGOTRY. 215 

the national pride of England than that she 
should be openly and shamefully convicted of 
hating a faithful people, who have ever stood 
devotedly by her side in the darkest hours of 
danger and tribulation : a people to v^hose ge- 
nius she owes so much of her intellectual great- 
ness ; to whose blood so much of her military 
fame, and to whose fellowship so much of the 
wealth and dignity she now enjoys. (Vehe- 
ment cheers.) Who, then, will blame me in 
taunting England for raising such a motive for 
her words and actions, and for trying to aggra- 
vate and enhance that baseness by the display 
of a spirit of bigotry and intolerance, the foul- 
est and most hateful that can be conceived ? 

" In all eyes England has been degraded and 
disgraced by her bigotry. (Hear, hear.) It 
was degrading in her to bow her neck to Hen- 
ry VIII., and suffer the proclamation of a bru- 
tal despot to have the force of law when it '^^ 
pleased his absurd mind to affect a new reli- 
gion. It was slavish in her to adopt a new re- ^ 
ligion in the days of Edward VI. because it 
was the pleasure of the court that she should do 
so ; and it was degrading in her to come back 
to the old religion, when she found that her 
throne was filled by Mary, a princess attached 
to the Catholic Church. Then, who is there 
will describe the bigotry and intolerance which 



216 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

marked her national character in the reign of 
Elizabeth, a Protestant queen, for whom she 
again forswore the ancient religion, or the un- 
happy days of James, when her bigotry mad- 
dened into fanaticism. (Loud cries of hear, 
cheers.) 

" During all these reigns the land was 
drenched with gore, and the scaffold was never 
dry from the blood of those whose only crime 
was that they presumed to differ from the dom- 
inant party. This was the case, no matter 
whether the doctrines most affected at the time 
were Catholicism or Protestantism. Henry 
VIII. persecuted to the death Catholics and 
Protestants. And who can forget the slaugh- 
ters which in the reign of Edward VI., when 
Cranmer brought for signature to the boy who 
held the imperial sceptre of England, the war- 
rant which was to condemn to the stake two 
fellow-creatures, Joan Buther and a man called 
De Parr. ' Ah,' said the weeping child, ' don't 
ask me to put my name to such a thing.' ' I 
am an archbishop,' replied Cranmer ; ' sign the 
paper, and I will take the sin upon my own 
conscience.' So the warrant was signed, and 
the man and woman were butchered. * * * 

" Our business is, then, to take the stand we 
Have taken ; our object is to place our views 
on the broad basis I have mentioned. At pres- 



INSANITY OP THE ENGLISH COUNCILS. 217 

ent there is no symptom of a reform society in 
England; but when I go there I shall again 
blow the trumpet of reform. (Cheers.) I will 
ask them, Have all the faculties of the Eng- 
lish people been extinguished ? (Hear, hear.) 
They have displayed genius and ability of the 
highest order. Some of the most sublime works 
that ever emanated from the human intellect 
have been produced in England. Their im« 
provements in machinery have been brought to 
a state of perfection, until they have made ma- 
chinery almost to think and perform the duty 
of sentient beings ; and, oh ! disgrace on the 
party that would keep them in the position 
they are at present. (Hear, hear.) From their 
present acts they must be labouring under the 
greatest insanity ; for I ask, was there ever 
greater insanity exhibited among statesmen 
than to think of going to war with the people 
of Ireland ? 

"Yes, they proclaim war against Ireland. 
(Hear.) The passage read by Sir Robert Peel 
at the dinner in Tamworth shows this ; it was 
a passage from a speech of King William IV., 
abusing me for agitating for repeal. Yes, this 
is your intention : you may be crowed over by 
France ; you may be insulted by Russia ; you 
may be terrified by America ; but I will not give 
you the pleasure of tyrannizing over Ireland. 

II.— T 



218 GLORY AND SHAME OF KNGLAND. 

(Hear.) To Sir Robert Peel I say quack doc- 
tor. I thank you ; but it is a quick medicine 
you offer us, and it won't do. (Laughter.) I 
admit the high qualities in many instances of 
ihe English people, but there is nothing I ad- 
mire them more for than this : when they go to 
battle, it has ever been the determination among 
them, as it should be (for every man ought to 
go into battle with such determination), to die 
rather than yield. 

" Their most glorious victories, Cressy, Poic- 
tiers, and Agincourt, were all gained on that 
principle. They went to battle not to be con- 
quered ; they went to battle to die if necessary, 
but never to go back ; and, acting on the same 
principle, Ireland on a more recent day helped 
them to gain Waterloo. (Hear, hear, and 
cheers.) And, by-the-by, in their own civil 
wars they exhibited the same determination. 
In the first battle which Edward IV. gained 
over Henry VI., they were about 40,000 strong 
on each side ; they began to fight Palm Sun- 
day without waiting for mass. The Yorkists 
succeeded, there being left on the field of bat- 
tle 36,000 Englishmen. There they stood to 
be killed ; nobody thought of going back, and 
that is the principle that has ever actuated them. 

" I now tell the English that the Irish are as 
capable as they are of evincing the same quiet 



OCONNELLS SPEECH. 219 

and determined courage. Their principle is to 
die, but never to be conquered. Whenever men 
go into battle, that should be their principle. 
(Loud cheers.) And why do I say this ? Be- 
cause — 

" A voice. — Let them try it. 

^' Mr. O'Connell. — If they try it, it shall be 
their fault ; and wo to the scoundrels who, if 
they try it, won't pay them off in their own 
coin. (Loud cheers.) 

" A voice. — We paid them off at Fontenoy. 
(Cheers.) 

'^ Mr. O^Connell. — No; I am here to pre- 
vent such a crisis ; but if the crisis should come, 
I hope I am as ready to meet it as another. 
(Loud cheers.) But why do I recur to this 
subject ? Because I find men actually talking 
of rebellion in Ireland ; they are not Repealers. 
(Cheers.) They are quiet men, who have been 
checking us for our violence, and have hitherto 
been exclaiming against us (hear) ; and there 
is one among them who has been using his 
press to oppose us — I mean no less a man than 
Frederic William Conway. (Cheers.) You 
will admit that there was no man hitherto less 
inclined to talk of rebellion. (Hear.) 

" I will now read to you what he says ; and 
if Sir Robert Peel be a statesman, he will give 
attention to a man of Mr. Conway's great tal- 



220 GLORY AND &HAME OF ENGLAND. 

ent ; more particularly so when he recollects 
the resistance he made to agitation in Ireland, 
when I thought it was necessary, but when he 
considered it to be unnecessary. The more 
unwilling he was then to enter into strife, the 
more Sir Robert Peel should attend to what 
he now says. And let him not think that Mr, 
Conway does not lead a great deal of the Irish 
mind, for there is an important class that at- 
tend to him. (Hear.) He alludes, in the ex- 
tract I am going to read, to an article in the 
Times about disfranchising certain constituen- 
cies. Let Sir Robert Peel do so if he dare. 
(Cheers.) Here is what Mr. Conway says to 
him : ' Will the Tories attempt anything so 
thoroughly atrocious and revolting as this ? 
We do not doubt their disposition in the least ; 
but have they no prudence ? while England is 
starving, do they desire to throw Ireland into 
a justifiable rebellion ?' (Hear.) There is old 
Conway for you. (Cheers.) 

" No, no ; Ireland has no occasion to rebel ; 
Ireland will not rebel ; Ireland shall not rebel. 
The Americans ultimately succeeded, because 
they kept within the law until the laws were 
trampled on around them. (Cheers.) Eng- 
land may go to war with us ; we will only go 
to law with her ; and so long as she leaves us 
one particle of law to stand upon, so long we 



■OCONNELL'S SPEECH. 221 

will take no other ground. If they cut that 
ground from under us, then we will go cojisult 
Mr. Conway. (Cheers.) 

" No, my friends, the time is come when 
every man in Ireland, when he goes to bed at 
night, should lay his head on his pillow, not so 
much to sleep as to ruminate. Nothing would 
your enemies desire more, in any one way they 
view it, than a precocious insurrection. No- 
thing would they more anxiously wish for than 
a premature tumult, even though they forced 
you to it. Let no man, therefore, be mad 
enough to indulge them until they actually 
compel him to it. (Hear, hear.) 

" But I think the common sense of England 
will awake before we come to that period* 
They are the richest aristocracy in the world ; 
at the same time they are the most sordid : they 
are in the possession of all the human enjoy- 
ments that wealth, rank, and station can give ; 
everything that can be pleasing in the animal 
creation, they can have in abundance ; there 
is nothing that can pamper the human frame, 
that they are not in possession of. Sybarites 
of the most luxurious class, will they, for their 
vile hatred towards Ireland, risk their proper- 
ties and their lives ? (Cheers.) Le jeu li'en 
vaut pas la chandelle. The game is not Avorth 
the candle they burn in playing it. (Clieers 
T2 



222 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

and laughter.) If they declare war against 
Ireland tomorrow, what would be the value of 
their three per cent, consols ? and how much 
of the national debt would they pay with Birm- 
ingham shillings ? Why, not the value of a 
copper farthing. (Laughter.) Let me whis- 
per John Bull, and say a friendly word in his 
ear. Let me tell him that the steamboats 
which they say bring us so near England, can 
come in ten days from America. (Tremendous 
cheering, which lasted for several minutes.) 

" A voice. — A steamer came the other day 
in nine days and a half. 

" Mr. O' Connell. — But that was from Hali- 
fax. (Cheers.) But let me tell you that I 
have none of these apprehensions on my mind, 
because the Repealers will take my advice. 
(Cheers.) I have been forty years educating 
them. 

"-4 voice. — And may you live forty more. 
(Cheers.) 

" ilfr. O^ Connell. — The Repealers know the 
lessons which I have taught them too well ; 
they know that whoever commits a crime 
strengthens the enemy. (Cheers.) That (point- 
ing to the banner on the walls of the room, on 
which this wise maxim is written) is my green 
banner, around which I will rally the loyal and 
peaceable people of Ireland. (Cheers.) The 



O'CONNELLS SPEECH. 223 

hideous Times newspaper has had the audacity 
to talk of the crimes committed in Ireland du- 
ring the recent election ! I did not hear that 
a single opponent of ours was assaulted in the 
slightest manner ; I did not hear of a single 
case having been brought to the police-office. 
There might have been a few, perhaps, of a triv- 
ial nature, but I did not hear of them. 

" I believe not a single case of assault or out- 
rage was committed by the people. (Hear, 
hear.) To be sure, there were scenes of turbu- 
lence at Waterford and at CarloAv, but who 
were the atrocious perpetrators of the horrible 
outrages which took place ? The Orangemen. 
(Hear, hear.) The Times then comes out and 
accuses us of turbulence and crime, and the 
shedding of human blood ! Oh, yes, blood 
was shed, but it was by Orangemen ; the blood 
of little innocent children was shed at Water- 
ford ; and a woman was shot at Carlow, who, 
fortunately, did not die ; and the fellow was 
acquitted because he only shot a woman ! 
(Hear.) Another miscreant wounded eleven 
children at Waterford, and yet Ave bear it, while 
the rascally Times calls us turbulent. (Groans.) 
In the county of Cork they murdered a man, 
and eight Protestants and four Catholics who 
were on the jury gave a verdict of wilful mur- 
der. The father, poor man, was beating in 



224 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 



m 



his little boys that he might keep them away 
even from witnessing a scene of riot, and for 
doing that the Orangemen beat him to death. 
(Exclamation of horror.) 

" I have detained this meeting at great length 
(no, no, no) ; but I could not in justice do oth- 
erwise ; for subjects of greater importance than 
I have brought forward were never introduced 
in any public assembly. Let me end by ear- 
nestly entreating that no man of our party will 
put himself in the wrong by violating any law. 
Let there be no riot, no tumult, no assault ; for 
a man won't defend himself in a worse way, if 
called on, for being in the right. (Hear, hear.) 
Adopt the great, glorious, magic principle of 
being in the right. (Hear, hear.) Li all our 
contests we have refrained from shedding one 
drop of human blood, or injuring one par- 
ticle of public or private property ; we have 
vindicated public liberty in the absence of all 
offence against man or crime against God ! 
(Cheers.) In the glorious career we have com- 
menced let us persevere in the same course, by 
endeavouring to remove the effects of centu- 
ries of oppression and exterminating persecu- 
tion. (Loud cheers.) 

" No country in the world affords such mel- 
ancholy evidence of cruelty and oppression as 
that which Ireland exhibits in her sufferings 



o'connell's speech. 225 

from England ; but she has endured them all. 
(Cheers.) Hitherto we have been divided and 
distracted ; we have been combating each oth- 
er ; and those internal feuds have unfortunately 
prevented us from amalgamating heart and 
hand ; but the day of sobriety and of education 
has at length appeared ; the holy light of re- 
ligious feeling, which, though never dimmed, 
now shines forth with greater lustre, and warns 
us to be obedient to the law, while we are strug- 
gling for our liberties. (Loud cheers.) 

^' The day has come when, I trust, the veil 
which obscures and darkens the ancient glo- 
ries of our native land is about to be removed ! 
(Cheers.) Let my voice go through the land : 
be cautious of your enemies, whose wish must 
be that you place yourselves in the wrong ; vio- 
late no law ; give them no advantage over you 
by accident ; respect the queen, that amiable 
and beloved monarch ; keep, preserve for her, 
your allegiance unpurchased and unpurchasea- 
ble. (Great cheering.) She may, like another 
monarch, have to fly among you for protection. 
{Tremendous cheering.) Oh ! that I were about 
indulging in the aspiration that it might be so ; 
and if it were, he mocks me much who talks 
of my advanced age. (Tremendous cheering, 
which lasted several minutes, and was again 
and again renewed,, until the very walls of the 



226 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

building seemed to resound with the acclama- 
tion.) 

" I am older, to be sure, than when I com- 
menced this contest ; but my heart is still yonng, 
and my arm is as powerful and as vigorous as 
ever it was, and my heart and arm she shall 
have against every enemy. (Loud cheers.) 
These are the terms, then, on which I stand: 
Connexion with England ; submission to the 
British crown ; dutiful allegiance to the sover- 
eign ; love of liberty ; and an unalterable deter- 
mination to be free. (Tremendous cheers.)"] 

After all that O'Connell has said about 
American slavery, there is no man in Great 
Britain who loves this country better than he. 
In a conversation with him while I was in Lon- 
don, he said : " It is not in my heart to hate 
America : she has opened her free arms to too 
many thousands of my own countrymen ; she 
too effectually humbled the power of England 
in her glorious Revolution; she has given such 
a splendid illustration of the beauty, practica- 
bility, and pawer of equal freedom to the 
Avorld. No, I never will wrong my feelings by 
saying aught against your people. 

" But I cannot bear the idea of American 
slavery : it is too intolerable ; I consider its ex- 
istence to be the greatest anomaly at this time 
in the civilized world ; it is the grossest incon- 



HIS OPINION OF AMERICAN SLAVERY. 227 

sistency. If there are considerations which 
seem to you to offer some apology for the con- 
tinuance of the odious system, in Europe we 
can see no extenuating circumstances in your 
favour. To us it is all one foul blot ; disgrace- 
ful to your people and insulting to humanity. 
I mourn over your inconsistency ; and I blush 
for America when I, as her sworn friend in 
England, am taunted with the finger of scorn 
which points towards this great structure of 
wrong. By perpetuating the institution, you 
lose your respect, influence, and consideration 
abroad. 

" How perfectly monstrous is the idea, that 
America, free, glorious America, should send a 
slaveholder to represent her Republic at the 
Court of St. James. You make yourselves the 
laughing-stock of every aristocrat in Europe : 
you bring yourselves into contempt. You do 
not realize, perhaps, how all this looks to Eu- 
ropean eyes. You are inflicting, perhaps, as 
great a wrong upon Europe as upon Africa. 
You throw a strong barrier across Europe 
against the progress of free principles — your 
example ! Oh ! your inconsistency ! the God 
of liberty and the demon of slavery Avorship- 
ped around the same altars. 

'' I do not wish to speak ill of your country. 
T love American liberty as well as any man. I 



228 CfLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

love your country as an Irishman better than 
any other land but my own ; and I pray God 
that you may do away with this dreadful system, 
and then your nation will be fair as the sun, 
clear as the moon, and more terrible to the 
grayheaded aristocracy of Europe than an 
army with banners. 

" You know little in America what the friends 
of equal rights are called upon to suffer here. 
Your fathers knew it well ; for they had to 
struggle with the same despotism ; and I shall 
always feel the deepest veneration for the men 
of your Revolution. 

" But we are cheered in our efforts by the 
certain advancement and ultimate triumph of 
Liberty in the Old World. The people are be- 
ginning to wake up from their long sleep, and 
ask their rulers for liberty : the boon must be 
granted. Tyrants cannot hold their empire 
much longer over prostrate humanity. God 
made his creatures to be free ; and the voice of 
his Providence can be heard among the con- 
fused struggles, of the race, proclaiming that his 
lofty purpose is being carried into effect. 

" Oh yes, blessed be God, we shall have a 
free Avorld yet. You may live to see it, but I 
shall not. But my faith is strong in man, and 
m Heaven. And although God may not let 
me see the great brotherhood of man enter the 



ULTIMATE TRIUMPH OF FREEDOM. 229 

Promised Land, yet he will suffer me to stand 
on the Mountain of Vision, and view the land 
afar off. Oh ! humanity ! what greatness there 
is in man when he is free !" 

— When I commenced this letter, I did not 
intend to trespass so long upon your patience. 
That your last days may be as peaceful and 
happy as your whole life has been honourable 
and illustrious, is the prayer of 

Your humble friend, 

C, Edwards Lester. 

Vol. IL— U 



230 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 



To the Hon. John C. Spencer. 

In ancient times those men were considered 
worthy the highest honour who became ilhis- 
trious in government and letters ; and although 
you cannot consider yourself flattered in being 
addressed by so humble an individual, yet I 
trust you will award to the writer the simple 
merit of appreciating those qualities by which 
you have rendered yourself distinguished in 
the political and literary world. 

As a member of the Legislature and Speaker 
of the House of Assembly of your own state ; 
in the National Congress ; as a lawyer and ju- 
rist ; and as Secretary of State for New-York, 
you have been alike eminent for patriotism, 
learning, and a deep regard for the interests 
of the people. But should after times be un- 
mindful of every other claim you may have 
upon their remembrance, your name will never 
cease to be mentioned Avith gratitude so long 
as the walls of a district schoolhouse shall be 
left standing in the Empire State. 

I have ever considered our system of com- 
mon school education as the glory of our coun- 
try. We shall never see oppression, want, or 
vice prevail among our people so long as the 



THE QUESTION NOW BEFORE ENGLAND. 231 

means of intellectual and moral elevation are 
placed within their reach. Our children shall 
never bow down at the feet of a tyrant, while 
in every hamlet the lights of science illuminate 
the popular mind. 

With the subject of this letter you have no 
doubt been long familiar. At no period has the 
public mind of Great Britain and America 
been so feelingly alive to the evils, the injus- 
tice, and the oppressive character of the exist- 
ing corn-laws, as at present. Nor has there 
ever been so general a conviction that the 
time has arrived when the interests of Great 
Britain imperatively require that they be imme- 
diately and totally abolished. 

This subject is instinct ivith human life. It 
is no less a question than on what terms shall 
an Englishman breathe ; on what conditions 
his mouth shall open and shut, his jaws and 
teeth perform the duties of action and reaction ; 
yea, more, this corn-law legislation deals di- 
rectly with the stomachs of men, forbidding 
those ancient and anxious customers any em- 
ployment of their skill in the great art of di- 
gestion, until a solemn question has been set- 
tled with the three kingdoms of the British em- 
pire. 

One would suppose, to see the ruinous oper- 
ation of the corn-laws upon the whole manufac- 



232 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENG-LAND. 

turing system ; their horrible results upon the 
working classes, and the crime, suffering, and 
discontent they immediately cause, that the 
English government had been struck blind; fur- 
nishing another illustration of the truth of the 
ancient maxim, " Whom the gods wish to de- 
stroy they first make mad." 

The great Conservative party are warned by 
the progress of discontent, that their oppressions 
are goading the people into a revolution, which 
can only be avoided by granting them justice. 
No man who has watched the aspects of Eng- 
lish society for the last few years, can wonder 
that there is there such a " dragon as popular dis- 
content." Indeed, I was astonished at nothing 
I witnessed abroad so much as the endurance of 
the English people. They are ground into the 
earth deep by the heel of tyranny ; and I do not 
wonder so much that Chartist violence prevails, 
as I do that the throne and the aristocracy are 
not hurled to the dust by an outraged and in- 
sulted people. 

But America is also deeply interested in this 
question ; for no man can estimate the advan- 
tages we should gain by a repeal of the corn- 
laAvs. This, as well as many other matters of 
vital interest and importance, will more clearly 
appear in the progress of this letter. I am 
well aware that this is a subject which requires 



NATURE OF THE CORN-LAWS, 233 

more experience and knowledge than I am able 
to bring to its elucidation ; still there are a few 
things that I will mention which cannot but be 
obvious to every mind. 

What is the nature, then, of the present corn- 
laws ? After the peace of 1815, a law was 
passed which excluded all foreign corn from 
the British ports until the price of wheat at 
home reached 80 shillings the quarter (8 bush- 
els). This law originated in the desire to pre- 
serve, during a state of peace, the high rents 
and prices which had existed during the war. 
The interests of the landholders alone were con- 
sulted in this cruel enactment ; whose provis- 
ions were such, that no grain could be import- 
ed, until the scarcity became so great that the 
people were upon the verge of famine. 

The measure was opposed with great ability 
by several of the most eminent statesmen of 
the times ; and Lord Grenville drew up a pro- 
test imbodying the views of the minority ; but 
the landed interest prevailed. By an over- 
whelming majority the bill passed both Houses, 
and on the 23d of March, 1815, received the 
royal assent. 

This law was so oppressive that it created 

disturbance in almost every part of England : 

a starving people were goaded into rebellion. 

But their hunger was cured by military force 

U2 



234 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

— the remedy tyrants have generally resorted 
to in similar cases. At last its results became 
so appalling, that in 1827 Mr. Canning intro- 
duced a bill into the House providing for the 
importation of corn at all times, by substitu- 
ting a graduated scale of duties, in place of ab- 
solute prohibition at 80 shillings. This was a 
slight improvement upon the barbarous law of 
1815 ; but it received its death-blow in the 
House of Lords from the Duke of Wellington 
— a man who has been engaged for the chief 
part of his life either in crushing the liberties 
of foreign nations, or of the English people at 
home. 

In 1828 the present corn-law was enacted ; 
and its provisions for settling the average prices 
of corn are as folloAvs : 

" In one hundred and fifty towns in England 
and Wales, mentioned in the act, corn-dealers 
are required to make a declaration that they 
will return an accurate account of their pur- 
chases. [In London, the sellers make the re- 
turn.] Inspectors are appointed in each of 
these one hundred and fifty towns, who trans- 
mit returns to the receiver in the Corn Depart- 
ment of the Board of Trade, whose duty it is 
to compute the average weekly price of each 
description of grain, and the aggregate average 
price for the previous six weeks, and to trans- 



PRESENT CORN-LAW. 235 

mit a certified copy to the collectors of cus- 
toms at the different outports. The return on 
which the average prices are based is published 
every Friday in ' The London Gazette.' The 
aggregate average for six weeks regulates the 
duty on importation. In 1837 the quantity of 
British wheat sold in these towns was 3,888,957 
quarters ; in 1838 there were 4,064,305 quar- 
ters returned as sold ; and 3,174,680 quarters 
in 1839. 

" Wheat at 505. pays a duty of 365. Sd. ; bar- 
ley at 325. a duty of 135. 10^^. ; oats at 245. a 
duty of IO5. 9<i. ; rye, pease, and beans, at 355. 
a duty of I65. 9d. In the case of wheat, when 
the price is 665., for every shilling that the price 
falls the duty increases by I5., and decreases 
by the same sura for every shilling that the 
price rises ; for all other grain the duty in- 
creases by I5. Q)d. for every shilling that the 
price rises. Colonial wheat is admitted at a 
duty of Qd. when the average of the six weeks 
is at or above 675. ; and when below 675. the 
duty is 55. the quarter, and for other grain in 
proportion. Importation is free on payment of 
I5. on the quarter when Avheat in the home 
market is 735. ; barley 4l5. ; oats 3l5. ; and 
rye, pease, and beans 465. the quarter. 

" In the following table the scale of duties 
proposed by Mr. Canning, and that adopted 



236 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

by the Legislature of 1828, and acted upon up 
to the present time, are placed in juxtaposition ; 



Average Fr!cet 
of Wheat. 




Duty according to 
Mr. Canning's Bill. 




Duty accoramg to 
the present Scale. 


s. 




s. 




s. d. 


73 




1 




1 


72 




I 




2 8 


71 





1 




6 8 


70 




1 




10 8 


69 




2 




13 8 


68 




4 




16 8 


67 




6 




18 8 


66 




8 




20 8 


65 




10 




21 8 


64 




12 




22 8 


63 




14 




23 8 


62 




16 




24 8 


61 




18 




25 8 


60 




20 




26 8 


59 




22 




27 8 


58 




24 




28 8 


57 




26 




29 8 


56 




28 




30 8 


55 




30 




31 8 


54 





32 




32 8 


53 




34 





33 8" 



By this bill the English landlord defends 
himself against all the world, and enjoys a mo- 
nopoly in the sale of bread-stuffs so long as he 
has any to sell ; and when famine has bought 
him out, he permits grain to be imported all 
but duty free. It was designed by the fra- 
mers of this law, that it should not fix so high 
and permanent a duty as would absolutely ex- 
clude foreign grain in times of great scarcity, 
or famine ; for then the people would have risen, 



POLICY AND EFFECT OF THE CORN-LAWS. 237 

as a last resort, and thrown off the government ; 
and the monopolists nicely calculated how hun- 
gry the people could be kept from the begin- 
ning to the end of the year without rebellion. 
To secure to him the entire monopoly of grain, 
the law allows the landholder to charge about 
double its ordinary price on the Continent and 
in America ; this sliding tariff growing less and 
less, and tapering to a point of nominality, as 
famine, with her thousand horrors, approaches. 

This brief sketch will give some idea of that 
deep-laid scheme to reach the daily wages of 
the labouring man of England, in driving com- 
petition to a distance by excluding foreign 
grain, except in periods of great scarcity bor- 
dering on famine. 

This nicely-contrived device operates with 
the greatest severity upon the poor man ; for 
through his teeth he is made to pay, or, more 
properly, to be punished, for the offence of 
being born in England. Persons born since 
the enactment of the corn-laws must regard 
themselves as paying this penalty for having 
had the audacity to draw their first breath on 
that oppressed island. Nor is there any pur- 
ging the offence, or commuting it on the soil ; 
for it sticks to a man like " original sin," and 
his only chance of escape from it is by fleeing 
to a distant colony, expatriation, or death. 



238 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

What do the corn-laius cost the English peo- 
ple ? It is estimated that the consumption 
of grain of all kinds in the kingdom is sixty 
million quarters per annum. Twelve years 
ago M'Culloch supposed the amount to be only 
a little less than this ; and since then there has 
been a great increase of population. The con- 
sumption of all other kinds of agricultural pro- 
duce is, without doubt, equal to the total con- 
sumption of grain. Supposing the effect of the 
corn-laws to be to raise the price of grain only 
10s. a quarter higher than it would be were for- 
eign grain freely imported, it follows that the 
burden of the bread-tax is equal to the enor- 
mous sum of three hundred million dollars a 
year : a sum exceeding the whole expendi- 
ture of the government, including the interest 
on the national debt. 

But it can be shown to the satisfaction 
of every reasonable man, that the corn-laws 
nearly double the p7'ice of grain. Mr. G. R. 
Porter, of the Board of Trade, in his valuable 
work on this subject, states that the average 
price of wheat in Prussia for the last twenty- 
two years has been only Zls. 2d. a quarter, 
while the price, during the same period, has 
been 6I5. in London. 

What is the effect of these laws upon the 
labouring classes ? Starvation ! Were it not 



FAMINE IN IRELAND. 239 

necessary for me lo confine myself within very 
narrow limits in preparing this letter, I should 
be glad to lay before you a detailed view of 
this whole subject, particularly in its bearings 
upon the poor. I have collected a vast amount 
of facts, which would shock the feelings of 
any reader : the thousandth part I am not 
able to publish ; neither will I select the worst 
cases that have come to my knowledge. 

The following extract from a letter written 
from Connemara last year, will show how 
these laws operate in Ireland. They enrich 
the idle absentee landlords and starve the peo- 
ple : " I regret to inform you that famine still 
prevails, and is increasing to a frightful extent 
in this district, even among those who were 
considered above want. The poor people are 
coming in hundreds here, to see if anything will 
be done for them. I was present this day 

when application was made to , stating 

that they were existing by bleeding the cattle 
and boiling the blood till it became thick, ivhen 
they eat it, and also eating seaweed and small 
shellfish. I knew cases myself where the chil- 
dren resorted to weeds in the fields to allay 
their hunger, being so for twenty-four hours, 
and another large family of children having no 
food for two days : one of them, a boy, dread- 
ing a return of hunger, took away the two 



240 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

sheep that were spared to pay the public money 
or cess, which, to add to the misfortune, is now 
collecting, and sold them for half price. 

" Others are known to have, by night, taken 
away the carrion of a cow drowned by chance, 
and unskinned for two days, and picked the 
bones that the dogs had feasted on. Many 
families are lingering through fever, and will 
feel want a long time, as their manure remains 
at their cabins, not being able to sow ; and 
what is worse, the misery is not likely to end 
with many when the harvest returns, which 
will be late in this country, as they are now 
compelled to root out the potatoes before they 
arrive at one eighth of their growth. So that 
in a week there will be as much destroyed as 
would serve for two months, if full grown. I 
need not name one village, for every one round 
about shares this awful situation. There are 
many actively endeavouring to relieve this dis- 
tress ; but, alas, it is only like a drop of water 
to the ocean." 

The following instance of starvation I take 
from the Bolton Free Press: "Death from 
Starvation. — Stockport, March 5. — Sir : Sur- 
rounded as you must be with heart-rending 
scenes of distress, the following may serve to 
show the baneful effect of the corn-law on the 
manufacturing and industrious classes. In the 



DEATH BY STARVATION. 241 

present depressed state of trade, with the high 
price of provisions, the woriiing classes are suf- 
fering all the evils imaginable ; many of them 
without half food or clothing, and many, very 
many, without a bed to lie down upon ; while 
three, four, and even five families are huddled 
together in one small and miserable dwelling. 

" The case I allude to is that of a poor wid- 
ow, named Ellen North, sixty years old, who 
resided in the Leadyard, Middle Hillgate, and 
who was found starved to death on Sunday 
morning last, without either sheet, or blanket, 
or anything worthy to be called clothing, in a 
room for which she paid 8^/. per week. 

" The poor creature had been in the receipt 
of Is. per week from the town, which, with a 
little winding she got from Messrs. Hardy and 
Andrew, of this town, was all that she had had 
to subsist on for some time past. Latterly, 
when she had a little work, she has been known 
by her neighbours to sit up all night that she 
might take home the work in the morning, and 
so procure food for breakfast. A few weeks 
since she said to Mrs. Grimes, her next-door 
neighbour, ' I believe I shall be starved to 
death, Betty, for I have only got fourteen pence 
in the last fortnight ; and, if that will do, any- 
thing will do.' She had had no work for the 
last three weeks, and was supposed to have 

Vol. II.— X 



242 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

been dead about a week, when the door of her 
miserable room was broken open by her neigh- 
bours. 

" The only food in her room was a hard 
crust and four cold potatoes, and all the mon- 
ey, one halfpenny. An inquest was held at 
the "Warren Bulkeley Arms, when a verdict of 
* Died from want' was returned. Thus, by the 
stagnation of trade, the continuance of which 
is undoubtedly occasioned by the corn-law, are 
the old left to die neglected ; while many of our 
young women, wreckless from want, abandon 
themselves to prostitution I How long will 
Englishmen submit to these things ?" But this 
is not a solitary case : I could show you several 
hundred no less horrible. 

The statements below from the Manchester 
Times will give some idea of the general dis- 
tress in the manufacturing districts in 1839-40 : 
" Distress in the manufacturing districts is 
daily becoming deeper and deeper. In Bolton 
there are 1053 empty houses, of which about 
Fixty are shops, many of them in the main 
streets. There is at least d£3000 per week 
less paid in wages than three years ago. 
The shopkeepers are in great difficulties. 
There were, a short time ago, three sales of the 
property of shopkeepers in one day. All the 
mills except five are working short time, three 



DISTRESS AT BOLTON. 243 

to four days a week. South of Bolton, four 
miles, a large spinning establishment which 
gave employment to 800 hands has been en- 
tirely stopped for six months. The proprietor 
has 128 cottages empty, or paying no rent. 

" Entering Bolton from Manchester, there is 
another mill, where there are 200 hands, but 
which has been entirely stopped for more than 
twelve months. North of Bolton, another spin- 
ning establishment has been entirely standing 
some weeks, on which 1100 persons were de- 
pendant for subsistence. The consequent mis- 
ery and destitution are extreme. A few days 
ago, 500 persons were relieved by the poor- 
law guardians in one day, in amounts varying 
from sixpence to eighteen pence per head per 
week. In some cases there are two or three 
families living in one house. In one case sev- 
enteen persons were found in a dwelling less 
than five yards square. In another, eight per- 
sons, with two pairs of looms and two beds, 
were found in a cellar, six feet under ground, 
and measuring about four yards by five. The 
out-door relief to the poor is three times greater 
in amount than in the average of three years, 
1836, 7, and 8. It is impossible to convey by 
words even a faint idea of the patient suffering 
of thousands of the labouring classes. The 
debts to -shopkeepers and the unpaid house 



244 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

rents will amount to many thousands during 
the present year, and distraints for rent are 
taking place daily. The distress in all the 
manufacturing towns of this district is probably 
as deep as it is in Bolton. 

" Nor is it confined to Lancashire. At the 
meeting of the Anti-Corn-law Association, on 
Monday, Mr. Bury stated that at Nottingham 
thi'ee thousand persons were wandering about 
the streets, having literally nothing to do. We 
learn, also, that of thirty-five worsted spinning 
mills in Leicester and its neighbourhood, only 
six are in full work. At Paisley, too, there are 
about fifteen hundred persons out of employ- 
ment. The distress arising from want of work, 
and from low wages, is greatly aggravated by 
the high price of bread ; and it will be increas- 
ed in intensity by the cold weather that we may 
expect for the next three months ; for a great 
portion of the working classes have had no- 
thing to spare for the purchase of bed and body 
clothing." 

The testimony of some of the most respecta- 
ble physicians has confirmed the opinion, that 
multitudes starve to death in England every 
year. 

Says the learned d,nd humane Dr. Howard 
in a recent work on this subject : " The public 
generally have a very inadequate idea of the 



GRADUAL STARVATION. 245 

number of persons who perish annually from 
deficiency of food ; and there are few who 
would not be painfully surprised if an accurate 
record of such cases were presented to them. 
It is true, that in this country instances of death 
from total abstinence only casually occur ; yet 
every medical man whose duties have led him 
much among the poor ; who is familiar with the 
extreme destitution which often prevails among 
them, and the diseases thereby occasioned, is 
too often a witness of fatal results from grad- 
ual and protracted starvation I Although death 
directly produced by hunger may be rare, there 
can be no doubt that a very large proportion of 
the mortality among the labouring classes is at- 
tributable to deficiency of food as a main cause 
aided by too long-continued toil and exertion^ 
without adequate repose, insufficient clothing, ex- 
posure to cold, and other privations to which the 
poor are subjected.^'' 

He states that " their houses are almost des- 
titute of furniture ; comfortless and uncleanly ; 
too often damp, cold, and ill ventilated. Many 
live in dark cellars, in the midst of filth and 
putrefaction, by which the atmosphere is ren- 
dered foul and unfit for respiration, a due cir- 
culation of air being impossible. Their fami- 
lies are ill fed, scantily clothed, and badly 
lodged, three or four persons being frequently 
X2 



246 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

crowded together in the same bed, which is 
often filthy and deficient of covering. They 
live much on innutritions and indigestible food, 
and often use articles of bad quality, or such as 
are rendered unwholesome by adulteration, or 
by being too long kept." 

It is easy to see how all these potent causes 
of disease become aggravated whenever there 
is a scarcity of bread or of employment, both of 
which are either directly caused or terribly 
augmented by the corn-laws. The scanty fur- 
niture and clothing of the poor become at such 
times still more scanty, all that can possibly be 
spared being sold or pawned for food ; their 
houses and beds become more crowded from 
more living together to save rent ; their dwell- 
ings are worse ventilated, for every cranny by 
which air could enter is choked up, that they 
may be warm without the expense of fuel ; be- 
cause of their debilitated condition they drink 
more gin to' raise their depressed spirits, the 
quantity taken being more injurious ; and while 
deep despair settles upon them, hunger gnaws 
at their vitals. 

Dr. Howard says, that if the horrible results 
of the corn-laws upon the health of the poor 
could be fully known, it would send a chill to 
every heart in Britain. The catalogue of mis- 
eries he enumerates are truly frightful. He 



NEVER A PERIOD SO FATAL TO THE POOR. 247 

States, that while many, under the keen cravings 
of hunger, make their cry heard in the ears of 
their fellow-raen, many more, in the sullen 
despair of poverty, hide away in their cellars, 
where they lie in a listless, lethargic state un- 
til death comes to their relief. But, says he, 
*' In estimating the mortality among the desti- 
tute poor from scarcity of food, we must not 
forget that the result is still the same, whether 
the privation is so complete as to destroy life 
in ten days, or so slight and gradual that the 
fatal event does not occur till after many 
months' suffering." 

There can be no doubt that there never has 
been a period in England's history when her 
poor suffered so much from hunger. I well 
know that this is not the common opinion. 
There was some reason in ancient times for the 
epithet used by the old poets, of " Righte Mer- 
rie Ould Englande." There is much said even 
now about the " bold peasantry, their country's 
pride :" they are called the " happiest peasant- 
ry in the world." Sir James Graham, and 
other dreamers, whose only qualification for 
legislators consists in having heads stuffed with 
the figments of old poetry, complacently apply 
these pictures of England in past centuries to 
her present condition, and luxuriate in a bless- 
ed ignorance of the pauperism, misery, and 



248 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 



i 



crime which cover the face of once " Merrie 
Englande." 

In olden times a day-labourer could earn as 
much money as would buy every week for his 
family a bushel of wheat and twenty-four pounds 
of meat, although the money rate of wages was 
then lower than at present ; and though the 
poor man in Poland now receives less than 
the English operative, yet he can buy two or 
three times the quantity of food with it : thus 
showing that the real test of a man's wages is the 
quantity of necessaries he can purchase with them. 

Mr. Hallam, the most elegant and careful of 
living historians, in his " Middle Ages," says, 
" There is one very unpleasing remark, which 
every one who attends to the subject of prices 
will be induced to make, that the labouring 
classes, especially those engaged in agriculture, 
were better provided with the means of sub- 
sistence in the reign of Edward III., or of 
Henry VI., than they are at present. In the 
fourteenth century, Sir John Cullum observes, 
' a harvest man had fourpence a day, which en- 
abled him in a week to buy a coomb of wheat ; 
but to buy a coomb of wheat, a man must now 
(1784) work ten or twelve days.' 

" So, under Henry VI., if meat was at a far- 
thing and a hall the pound, which I suppose 
was al)onl the truth, a labourer, earning three- 



CONDITION OF AGRICULTURAL LABOURERS. 249 

pence a day, or eighteen pence in the week, 
could buy a bushel of wheat at six shillings the 
quarter, and twenty-four pounds of meat for 
his family. A labourer at present, earning 
twelve shillings a week, can only buy half a 
bushel of wheat at eighty shillings the quarter, 
and twelve pounds of meat at sevenpence." 

There were no Chartists then. The rights of 
labour were better understood in those oldfash- 
ioned times. What says this fact for English 
religion or civilization at the present day ? 

But let us look for a moment at the condition 
of " the happiest peasantry in the world." 
The operatives are not the only nor the worst 
sufferers from the corn-laws. It can be pro- 
ved, that in some of the richest counties of 
England the average earnings of the peasantry 
are far less per head (man, woman, and child) 
than the average cost oi merely feeding the in- 
mates {man, woman, and child) of their work- 
houses I Look abroad among the thatched 
hamlets and little villages of England ; over its 
waving fields of grain and verdant plains of 
pasture ; among those scenes, which seem like * 
enchanted grounds to the traveller from the top j 
of the coach : you could find in almost every 
house a confirmation of the words of the work- 
ing men of Sheffield in their address to the 
English people : 



250 GLORY AN1> SHAME OF ENGLAND. 



i 



" In England, those who till the earth, 
and make it lovely and fruitful by their la- 
BOURS, ARE ONLY ALLOWED THE SLAVE's SHARE OF 
THE MANY BLESSINGS THEY PRODUCE." 

It will assist the reader in forming a correct 
idea of this subject, if we consider the demoral- 
izing tendencey of the corn-laws, in connexion 
with the distress they occasion. 

Says the Devonshire Chronicle, "It is be- 
come a subject of deep regret to find the many 
repeated acts of robbery committed among 
sheep, pigs, poultry, and potatoes, besides 
breaking open houses, abstracting part of their 
contents," &c. 

. It should be no matter of surprise that men, 
whose average earnings are only eight shillings 
a week (finding themselves), have been driven 
to acts of robbery to eke out their own and 
their families' subsistence. Lord Chief-justice 
Hale, who wrote in the time of Charles II., 
says, " If the labourer cannot earn enough to 
feed his family, he must make it up either by 
begging or stealing J' ^ 

When the great National Anti-Corn-law Pe- 
tition, signed by half a million, was presented 
in Parliament, Mr. Wakeley, a member of the 
House, stated, that for many years, to his certain 
knowledge, the labourers of Devonshire (the gar- 
den of England) had received less than seven shil- 
lings a week as the average price of their labour. 



PICTURE OF DISTRESS IN DEVONSHIRE. 251 

Says the eloquent and philanthropic editor 
of the Anti-Corn-law Circular : " We have had 
g, conversation with a gentleman w^ho has just 
returned from a tour in Devonshire, and we 
find his account of the deplorable condition of 
the peasantry of that rich and beautiful county 
more than confirms the appalling statements we 
gave some time ago. Our informant has trav- 
elled over Ireland and Scotland, and he says 
that even there he never saw equal ivretchedness. 
On entering one of their cottages, or, rather, 
hovels, which it was impossible to do without 
stooping, he found nothing but the cold, damp, 
or, rather, wet earth as a floor, for it was liter- 
ally full of ruts, and in some places so soft that 
he was obliged to pick his steps. The first ob- 
ject that presented itself to his eye was the 
master of the house, crouching over a fire, on 
which a quantity of half-faded gorse had just 
been heaped, and from which issued volumes of 
heavy green smoke. By the man's side lay a 
bill-hook, with which he appeared to have 
been just cutting his miserable hxe-weed. His 
features wore a strange, half-vacant, sullen ex- 
pression, which kindled into a gloomy scowl at 
the appearance of the stranger. 

" This expression on the countenance of the 
husband soon subsided into that of its wonted 
stolidity; and, meanwhile, his wife, bustling 



252 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

about to hide her embarrassment and shame 
at the miserable poverty of their habitation, 
appeared a little more social and communica- 
tive. 

" ' It is very humble of you to come into a 
house like ours,' said she, quite astounded by 
the appearance of a decent-looking person in 
her w^retched dwelling. After a few prelimi- 
naries, the visiter expressed a wish to see a 
specimen of the bread they used, when he was 
shown a piece about the size of his hand, all 
they had in the house, of that black barley 
bread which we have formerly described. 

" The furniture, bed, and everything about 
the house exhibited an appearance of wretch- 
edness, reminding one more of savage life than 
of civilized Britain. And how could it be oth- 
erwise, when the man stated his wages to be 
only seven shillings a week, with deductions for 
broken time ; and that very day he happened 
to be prevented from working by the bad 
weather ? 

" On describing what he had seen to persons 
well acquainted with that part of the country, 
our informant was told that the scene he had 
witnessed was by no means an uncommon one : 
and as to the rate of wages, he had a good op- 
portunity of corroborating it himself. Seeing 
about a score of able-bodied men working to- 



CONNEXION OF POVERTY WITH CRIME. 253 

gether, he asked what wages they received ; 
when the reply was, that seven shillings was 
the common rate, though a few superior hands 
were pointed out who had eight or nine shil- 
lings a week." 

Some years ago Mr. Richard Gregory, the 
treasurer of Spitalfields, who for several years 
distinguished himself by his successful exer- 
tions for the prevention of crime, said before 
the House of Commons, " I can state from ex- 
perience, that crime and pauperism always g-o 
together. I have not for twenty-five years 
known but one solitary instance of a poor but 
industrious man out of employment stealing 
anything. I detected a Avorking man stealing a 
small quantity of bacon ; he burst into tears, 
and said it was his poverty, and not his inclina- 
tion, for he was out of work and in a state of 
starvation." 

Says William Howett in his " Heads of the 
People," " These (the English peasants) are 
the men that become sullen and desperate ; 
that become poachers and incendiaries. How, 
and why ? It is not plenty and kind words that 
make them so. What then ? What makes 
the wolves herd together, and descend from the 
Alps and Pyrenees ? What makes them des- 
perate and voracious, blind with fury and rev- 
eUing with vengeance ? Hunger and hardship. 

IT—Y 



^ 



254 GLORY AND SHAME OP ENGLAND. 

When the English peasant is gay, at ease, well 
fed and clothed, what cares he how ma«y 
pheasants are in a wood, or ricks in a farm- 
er's yard ? When he has a dozen backs to 
clothe, and a dozen mouths to feed, and no- 
thing to put on the one, and little to put in the 
other, then that which seemed a mere playful 
puppy suddenly starts up a snarling, red-eyed 
monster. How sullen he grows ! with what 
equal indifference he shoots down pheasants or 
gamekeepers. How the man who so recently 
held up his head and laughed aloud, now sneaks 
a villanous fiend, with the dark lantern and 
the match to his neighbour's rick ! Monster, 
can this be the English peasant ? 'Tis the 
same ! The very man ! But what has made 
him so ? What has thus demonized, thus in- 
furiated, thus converted him into a walking 
pestilence ? Villain as he is, is he alone to 
blame, or is there another ?" 

England proposes to evangelize the world ! 
Does she suppose that, while her own people 
are in a state of political degradation, a state 
of physical and moral starvation, she can even 
evangelize them ? Will a man whose whole 
life is beset with toils innumerable to get bread 
for himself and hungry family, hear, from his 
oppressors, a word about the sublime and pure 
doctrines of a Bible which makes it a high 



Vain to preach to the famishing poor. 255 

crime to rob the poor of bread ? No ! he can- 
not listen to them for very sorrow. First prove 
yourself his friend and benefactor by feeding 
his hunger and clothing his nakedness, and 
then he will hear you. Elevate him to the dig- 
nity of a man, by removing your oppressions^ 
and the work of evangelization will be easy. 

Said good old Baxter, the poor man's friend, 
" Do good to men's bodies, if you would do 
good to their souls ; say not things corporeal 
are worthless trifles, for which the receiver will 
never be the better : they are things which na- 
ture is easily sensible of ; and sense is the pas- 
sage to the mind and will. Dost thou not find 
what a help it is to thyself to have at any time 
ease and alacrity of body, and what a burden 
and hinderance pain and cares are ? Labour, 
then, to free others from such burdens and 
temptations, and be not regardless of them." 

In passing through one of the manufacturing 
towns, I was arrested by this revolting an- 
nouncement : 

" Two guineas reward. An unnatural moth- 
er last night, about seven o'clock, left her fe- 
male infant on the steps of the cellar under No. 
2 Back Cotton-street, Allum-street, Ancoats- 
lane, apparently not more than half an hour 
old. The child was, with the exception of a 
cap pinned over her mouth, and being laid on 



256 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

a white fac'^^ory bat, quite naked and unwashed 
from its birth." 

U?inaiural mother ! I should have exclaim- 
ed, had I not known she was driven to it by 
oppression. Is it possible to suppose that the 
feelings of a mother towards her dear infant, 
in a civilized country, could be so smothered 
by anything short of absolute and clamant ne- 
cessity ? Is it to be imagined, had trade been 
free, and corn untaxed, and bread thereby 
cheap, that fond affection, whose depth only a 
mother's heart can tell, and which even the 
wild beasts of the forest never lose for their 
young, Avould have ceased to draw her with 
cords of love to her child, or that she would 
have left it on the steps of a cellar to perish ? 

It was but half an hour old ! What could 
have driven her so soon to forsake it ? Dear 
BREAD ! It M'as quite naked, and unwashed 
from its birth ! What terrible necessity could 
have stifled the cries of mighty Nature, and 
tramped out in a mother's breast the glowing 
fire of maternal devotion ? The jewelling of 
the peer's coronet, the diamond necklace of the 
young countess, the race-horses of the squire, 
all bought with high rents, artificially enhanced 
by protective duties, which make dear bread. 
— This is the answer. 

A time will come when the cries of Nature 



PROSTITUTION FOR BREAD. 257 

will speak in a voice of thunder to all the hol- 
low forms that make up the sum of institutions 
in modern British society ; and when humanity, 
no longer insulted, and religion, no longer un- 
heard, shall constrain dukes to go a foot, and 
duchesses to go without earrings, ere infants 
" not more than half an hour old, naked and 
unwashed from their birth," shall be left to 
perish on the steps of cellars, because the 
mothers have not food to supply their own 
clamorous necessities. 

Why is it that so many labouring parents in 
England become, as it Avere, slave-dealers in 
their own flesh and blood, and sell the bones 
and muscles of their offspring to that premature 
toil which withers and cripples human beings, 
body and soul together ? Is this spontaneous ? 
Is it natural ? I think too well of my race to 
believe it. The corn-laws make the poor hun- 
gry ; " hunger makes men wolves." 

The corn-laws are destructive to female vir- 
tue. Says Symmons : " In one of these places 
(which he visited with the superintendent of 
police) a young girl, fresh in crime, attracted 
the practical eye of the superintendent. 

" ' Who are you, lassie V he inquired, and 
the girl turned away her head and tried to hide 
her face ; while her female companions .ooked 
on with the brazen-facedness which a month's 



258 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

practice in profligacy amply teaches. Her 
story was soon elicited : she was fresh from 
the Highlands ; Glasgow was a mine of wealth ; 
she came to seek service and high wages ; she 
obtained a miserable place, was turned out for 
some trivial fault, was thrown on the town, 
was starving, and was there. And here she 
must remain, like tens of thousands before her, 
and tens of thousands to come, till her brief ca- 
reer of vice, drunkenness, disease, and starva- 
tion, exhaust their rapid rotation, and end in 
death. 

" ' A dozen sometimes in a day of these poor 
things,' said Captain Miller, ' come to me to 
beg for honest employment ; but what can I 
do ? the factories are all overstocked ; the be- 
nevolent institutions would not contain one 
hundredth of them ; besides, they have no 
characters ; and if they had, there is no employ- 
ment.' 

" I thought of the corn-laws, and the sympa- 
thy for West Indian slaves, and Polish patriots, 
and heathen errors, and the refined feeling 
which teaches English religion to shun the pol- 
lution of a regard for prostitutes. 

" We may Samaritanize all respectable sin- 
ners, and Christianize infidels, and shed the 
softest tears of pious compassion over the frail- 
ties of patrician adultresses ; and all this in 



EXTKNT OF PROSTITUTION IN ENGLAND. 259 

perfect accordance with orthodox Christianity ; 
but the very idea of common, low-lifed prosti- 
tutes ; the mere mention of the duty of extend- 
ing a hand to uplift, from a worse than Jugger- 
naut destruction, the millions of our fellow- 
countrywomen who are immolated, soul and 
body, in the centres of civilization — most of 
them helplessly immolated — is a solecism in 
the morality of the respectable world, which 
very few Christians have the courage to com- 
mit. The number of women who perish by 
such a mode of life in this country, exceeds 
that of any other country in the whole world, 
by at least three to one in proportion to the 
population. It is a flagrant stigma on the Le- 
gislature, that it has neither the courage nor the 
Christianity to take up this matter, and devise 
a national resource for these persons." Hear 
the words of another Briton ; and let Ameri- 
cans read the contrast between his country and 
their own, and then fall on their knees and 
thank God for the ten thousandth time, that they 
are Americans : "In America you may travel 
a thousand miles, taking the towns in your 
way, and not meet a prostitute. In America 
it is as difficult for householders to get women- 
servants as in England for women-servants to 
get places. In America prostitution is a choice 
seldom made ; to Englishwomen thousands ev- 



260 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

ery year ; it is a dire necessity ! In order to 
reclaim Englishwomen, you must first find em- 
ployment for them. * * * Charity, virtue, 
happiness! these are English words still; but 
the meaning of them seems to have settled in 
America. I wonder that emigration is not 
more the fashion ; and wish that Mrs. Trollope 
would write a book on the domestic manners 
of the English. * * * Some out-of-the-way 
people founded a refuge for prostitutes ; a 
charity whose object was to reclaim such per- 
sons. One day a girl applied for admission 
to this retreat, saying, ' I am out of work, cold, 
hungry, tired, houseless, and anxious to be 
saved from evil courses.' She was dismissed, 
not being qualified. So the story goes." This 
reminds us of the old adage, " an ounce of 
prevention is worth a pound of cure." Eng- 
land never practises this : she thinks it better 
not to lock the stable until the horse is stolen. 

Who wonders that crime and violence pre- 
vail in a nation where the laws of man create 
a perpetual famine ? Let us see w^hat connex- 
ion exists between Chartism, rick-burning, 
pikes, jails, transportation, and — Hunger. 

The bread-tax bids fair to work a revolution 
in England. Dear bread caused the first 
French Revolution ; and its result was the de 
struction of the feudal principle on the Conti- 



CORN-LAWS AND CHARTISM. 261 

nent. Injustice contains within itself the seeds 
of its own downfall. In 1828, when Mr. 
Hume moved in Parliament for a modification 
of the corn-laws, Sir Robert Peel said they 
were upheld because " it was the constitutiojial 
policy of England to maintain the aristocracy 
and magistracy, as essential parts of the com- 
munity." What barbarity, to base the support 
of an aristocracy upon such a code as this ! 

England is beginning to feel the effect of 
her oppression in the discontent of the masses, 
which has taken the dangerous form of Char- 
tism. To regard the Chartist outbreaks as the 
results of mere political uneasiness and party 
spirit, is a grievous mistake ; they have sprung 
from the real distress of the lower orders. 
High prices and low wages, combined with 
fluctuating employment and excessive labour, 
sufficiently account for the lamentable scenes 
of riot and carnage. 

That the Chartists have gone wrongly to 
work in procuring redress is plain enough ; but 
men, agitated wildly in large masses, can nev- 
er be expected to act wisely : the blame, how- 
ever, rests less upon them than upon the mis- 
chievous legislation which has coerced them 
into rebellion. To condemn their errors is 
easier than to comprehend the intensity of their 
privations. 



262 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Can it be possible for men to see their wives 
and children perishing before their eyes, and not 
move Heaven and earth to save them ? " Bread, 
bread," is the cry ; " give us food, the plainest, 
coarsest, homeliest. Oh ! give us something 
to eat ; we are dying : the child I love is wast- 
ed to a shadow ; the infant at my breast can 
draw no milk from me, for I have had no nour- 
ishment ; the husband of my bosom is in surly 
despair ; for, instead of standing erect as a free- 
man, he has to beg, crouching like a slave ! 
Oh ! give us bread." 

Famine at once converts a man into a mere 
animal : gross ignorance is inevitable ; people 
cannot read or learn while they are starving; 
where there is ignorance there will always be 
crime, and even those well instructed want 
drives to crime. It produces selfishness, bad 
temper, heartlessness, skepticism, despair. Says 
Sidney Smith, " the starving man thinks of a 
good God with a sullen sneer." He looks upon 
his wife as the rival for his morsel, and he sells 
the lives of his children to the slavery of the 
factory ; for even this is better than starvation. 
There is no food, and no fire to warm his blood ; 
and how can his heart feel the glow of sympa- 
thy ? The power of conscience becomes grad- 
ually weakened ; he hates every one who has 
money as his natural enemy, and he considers 



CORN-LAWS RUINOUS TO TRADE. 263 

reprisal fair. He drinks, he steals, he robs, 
he murders. 

But the corn-laws are not only ruinous to the 
labouring population and dangerous to the sta- 
bility of the government, they sap the manufac- 
turings and commercial prosperity of the country. 
There was a time when every rood of Eng- 
lish ground maintained its man; England was 
then an agricultural nation. But her popula- 
tion has doubled in fifty years, and only one 
third of them are engaged in agriculture. 
The time has come when it is utterly impossi- 
ble for her to sustain her people by agricul- 
tural pursuits. She has been forced into man- 
ufactures as the only means by which her vast 
population, limited by the ocean on all sides, 
can be supported. 

For a long time Englishmen have been the 
artisans of the civilized world. So long as 
England imported corn from other nations, her 
manufactures were taken in exchange. At 
length, by her prohibitory laws, her one-sided 
policy, she has shut out the grain of foreign 
countries from her ports, and they have retalia- 
ted by shutting out her manufactures. In con- 
sequence of this, she is fast losing her markets 
She displays a foolhardiness and impudence 
really worthy to be called insane, in supposing 
she can insult other nations by driving away 



264 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

their commerce from her shores, and still have 
them open their ports to her own. If she will 
not buy their corn, they will not buy her man- 
ufactures. They would bankrupt themselves 
in one year by sending away their gold and sil- 
ver for fabrics which they can aiford to purchase 
only with their grain. The more corn she 
should buy of them, the more of her products 
would they receive in exchange. 

Had England been willing to treat the world 
with common justice, she might have found a 
market for a century to come for all the man- 
ufactures her entire labour and ingenuity could 
produce ; for other nations, possessing a larger 
territory and richer soil, would gladly have ex- 
changed their surplus grain for the productions 
of her mechanical skill. But her monopolizing 
policy has recoiled upon herself; and now she 
cannot find a market for half she is able to pro- 
duce, and her manufactures are fast decUnhig. 
The facts of the case are most astonishing, 
and in our country but little known. 

By her refusing to receive the corn of Eu- 
rope and America, these countries are no lon- 
ger able to purchase her goods ; and from being 
her customers, they have turned to be her rivals. 
English exports have fallen off rapidly. In 
1833 she sent to various parts of the world 
8,000,000 yards of velveteens ; in 1836 only 



FALLING OFF OF EXPORTS. 265 

half that qaantitij. la J8o3 she cxj^kjim-u ol 
cotton goods to Germany 29,500,000 yards ; 
in 1838 only one quarter as mifc/i. The quan- 
tity sent to Russia in 1820 was 13,206,000 
yards; ni 1837 only 847,000. In 1829 over 
5,000,000 yards were purchased' by .Russi;i : 
and in 1837 not one yard. Al the peace ia 
1815, Enghind siipplicd the whole commercial 
world with hosi'-ry ; but in J 838, while sh;' 
sent only 447,000 dozens to the West Indii s, 
Saxony sent a inil/ion and a half ! By her re- 
strictive enactments in relation to lier \^ est In- 
dia interests, she suggested to France the in- 
genious experiment of extracting sugar lrt)m 
the beet ; and rhis example has been followed 
by Belgium and other nations. A gentleman 
recently from Europe, told me that he saw a 
large sugar manufactory erected on the verge 
of the Forest of Soigny, overlooking the field 
of Waterloo. 

Throughout the Continent manufactures of 
almost every kind are springing up ; and there 
is not a country there that does not bris- 
tle with steam-engines and factory chimneys. 
Many of these nations are now England's pow- 
erful rivals. Within the last two years they 
have exported their goods to Britain, paid 
hejivy duties, and undersold the English man- 
ufacturer on his own ground. Every Ameri- 

YoL. II.— Z 



266 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

can knows that we can now manufacture every- 
thing we want. Our immense domains are 
able to feed the hungry millions of England. 
We were willing to give them bread in ex- 
change for their goods ; but England would 
not let us : she has compelled us to manufac- 
ture for ourselves. And to protect our manu- 
facturers, and defend ourselves against her ex- 
clusive legislation, we have imposed heavy du- 
ties upon her goods ; and as she seems deter- 
mined to persevere in a line of policy so suici- 
dal to herself, and so unjust to others, when 
our heaviest duties upon her commodities were 
about to cease, Congress has deemed it expedi- 
ent to renew them. 

But if the duties we impose inflict keener 
sorrows upon the tortured English operative, we 
are not to blame: England has driven us to it. 
We should be insane not to guard ourselves 
against her destructive enactments. It was a 
long time before our importers saw the folly of 
sending away millions of specie every year for 
English goods, while she refused to receive 
our grain in payment. But they do see it and 
feel it now ; and it will be long before we are 
again cursed with the enormous importations of 
1835 and '36. If we must clothe ourselves in 
foreign gewgaws, let us at least have the priv- 
ilege of paying for them with the products of 
our untaxed soil. 



AMERICAN MANUFACTURES. 267 

The unprecedented growth of American 
manufactures is to be almost entirely attributed 
to the English corn-laws. We were not de- 
signed by Providence so much to be a manu- 
facturing as an agricultural nation ; for God 
has given to us a continent which can spread a 
plentiful and luxurious table for the whole hu- 
man race; but, thanks to the same Beneficent 
Power, we have all the resources of life with- 
in ourselves, and need be dependant upon for- 
eign nations for nothing. If England is re- 
solved to exclude our corn, we have but to keep 
our gold at home, and employ it in the encour- 
agement of our own industry. 

There is no doubt, I suppose, that Americans 
are willing to declare a free trade with Eng- 
land, as soon as she will come to it herself. 
While Mr. Addington represented the court of 
St. James at Washington, he expressed the 
opinion, in a letter to Mr. Canning, that, had 
no restriction existed in England on foreign 
corn, the tariff bill never would have passed 
Congress. I have heard the same opinion from 
some of our own most eminent statesmen. 

It is horrible to reflect upon the miseries 
England thus brings upon her starving peo- 
ple ; and for it she merits the contempt of the 
whole world. There is no nation, savage or 
civilized, that so wantonly tampers with the 
prosperity and happiness of its people. 



268 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

We all know how recent has b-een the rise 
and how rapid the progress of our manufac- 
tures. Massachusetts alone annually produces 
manufactured goods to the amount of one hun- 
dred million dollars. These goods we export 
to every part of the world, and are able to 
compete with the English themselves in mar- 
kets they have long monopolized. We have 
not only sent engines to the Continent, but to 
England herself for her own railways ; and 
while I am writing these pages, a splendid 
war steamer, built in New-York for the Rus- 
sian emperor, is weighing her anchor for St. 
Petersburg. I know not whether we should 
thank or despise England most for a policy 
which elevates our manufactures at the expense 
of her own wretched people. 

Whenever England has a bad season, fam- 
ine comes on as a matter of course ; and then 
she is obliged to drain the country of its gold 
to purchase foreign grain. I have seen it sta- 
ted, that in 1839 the enormous sum of eight 
inillion sterling was taken from the Bank of 
England for foreign bread. This brought the 
bank to the verge of ruin, and created im- 
mense commercial distress. The rate of inter- 
est suddenly rose, and the distress brought upon 
the manufacturers and operatives was terrible. 
Thus the corn-laws, by denying the manu- 



CORN-LAWS RUINOUS TO COMMERCE. 269 

facturers the means of commercial exchange 
with foreign nations, subject the home trade to 
ruinous fluctuations, and destroy the demand 
for English products, at the very time the ut- 
most freedom of export is required to supply 
the wants of the people. Twenty millions ster- 
ling more were paid for bread alone in 1839 than 
in 1835. The stagnation of trade and the utter 
disorganization of every branch of industry 
depreciate English wares in foreign markets be- 
low the cost of production, and ruin the man- 
ufactures. To make confusion worse con- 
founded, at such a crisis England is compelled 
to send her gold away for corn ; the scarcity 
of money and the rise of interest cause exten- 
sive failures ; the operatives are turned off to 
starve ; and Avhile the warehouses of Manches- 
ter are groaning beneath unsaleable products, 
and millions are suffering from hunger, cargoes 
of foreign wheat are rotting in the storehouses 
of the government, because the merchant is un- 
able to pay the heavy duties ; or else thrown 
into the Thames, instances even of this hav- 
ing occurred. Oh ! the folly, the madness of 
English statesmen. The commercial panic of 
1839 was but one of a series of similar shocks 
that have recurred periodically, with constantly 
increasing violence, for the last five-and-twenty 
years. There is not a single instance on record 
Z2 



270 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

of commei'cial panic in connexion with a low 
price of food. These destructive vitiations of 
the balance of trade are produced, and pro- 
duced only, by the impious and absurd policy 
that restricts the population to a limited soil and 
a single climate for its food ; denying them the 
full benefit of those advantages which a boun- 
tiful Providence has placed at their command, 
and building up feelings of hostility, hatred, 
and rivalship between nations who had else, 

" Like kindred drops, been mingled into one." 

You will have anticipated me in relation to 
the last point on which I design to speak — 

the SIN, THE ABOMINABLE INIQUITY OF THE CORN- 
LAWS. No higher crime can be committed 
against one of God's creatures than to rob him 
of bread. It is so regarded by Heaven. God 
intended the world to be one great brother- 
hood. He has scattered wide the bountiful 
gifts of his Providence, and placed no restric- 
tion or prohibition on their free circulation and 
exchange. By giving to each particular nation 
something which others want, he evidently de- 
signed that, like the members of one and the 
same community, they should be mutually de- 
pendant. 

He has established inequality and variety in 
the seasons in different portions of the earth, so 



SIN OF THE CORN-LAWS. 271 

that when scarcity prevails in one region, it 
may be counterbalanced by unusual fertility in 
another ; and that thus, by receiving or giv- 
ing as they may want or abound, they may be 
drawn to know and love each other. 

Yes, God purposed that the whole earth 
should be but one dwelling, and the whole hu- 
man race as one family : the world is bright 
and beautiful ; the sun shines high in the azure 
depths, and lights up a kind, glad, bountiful 
earth. But there is one creature who joins not 
in the universal thanksgiving ; and why ? He 
is God's child ; but in his Father's green world, 
with luxury all around him, he is — starving. 
Who can doubt, that to bring about so terrible 
a result as this by attaching an artificial value 
to corn, is an abomination in the sight of God? 
or who supposes that England can hope for the 
favour of Heaven until this reproach is wiped 
away ? The Bible declares, " He that taxeth 
the bread of the poor, fighteth against God." 
*' He who withholdeth corn, the people shall 
curse him." 

Are there any to whom the terrible words of 
the Apostle James more forcibly apply than to 
the upholders of the corn-laws ? " Go to, now, 
ye rich men ; weep and howl for the miseries 
that will come upon you ; behold the hire of 
the labourer who hath reaped your fields, which 



272 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

is of you kept back by fraud, crieth ; and the 
cries of them that have reaped are entered into 
the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth." And the 
great Hebrew Lawgiver says : " Thou shalt not 
muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn." 
" What mean ye, that ye beat my people to 
pieces, and grind the faces of the poor ? saith 
the Lord God of Hosts." There is, indeed, no 
crime which seems to have so awakened the in- 
dignation of Heaven, as oppression of the poor ; 
and England is yet destined to experience a 
just retribution for long centuries of grinding op- 
pression. 

But why not repeal the iniquitous corn-laws ? 
Have not English landlords degraded their 
countrymen already low enough ? or must they 
be trodden still deeper into the earth ? A few 
weeks ago the following appeared in the Lon- 
don Times : " Sir: I was summoned to Bristol 
a few days ago, and on the Stapleton road I 
met a long covered truck, drawn by three men 
and four boys, harnessed together in rope tackle, 
exactly as you may have seen bullocks at a 
plough, or dogs in a cart. On inquiry what this 
could be, I was told that they belonged to the 
Great Union House, and had been to the city 
for provisions. I expressed my horror at see- 
ing human beings submit to such degradation, 
when the man assured me, with the utmost un- 



MORAL DEGRADATION PRODUCED BY CORN-LAWS. 273. 

concern, that this was nothing of a load ; that 
they Avent for oakum and various other things, 
among which he named rod iron to make nails, 
on which occasions, he said, you might see ten, 
twelve, or even fifteen in harness !" So, on al- 
most every public road in England, and in the 
towns, the traveller sees women scraping up 
manure with their hands to sell for bread. 

The following lines were addressed to the 
aristocracy by an operative : 

" You pity not that squalid wretch ; you loathe her and condemn : 
Sad victim she. Your daughters — wives : O, name it not to them.' 
Once she was pure as they ; but, left forlorn life's path to tread, 
By grinding poverty constrain'd, she sold herself for Bread. 

Through yonder prison grate an urchin's stolid face is spied ; 
His father, worn with fruitless toil, of want and sorrow died : 
His mother, Heaven help her ! roams without a sheltering shed ; 
And he, uncared for and untaught, is driven to steal for Bread. 

That crowd of pallid artisans, who murmur loud and deep, 

In vain they beg for leave to toil : their wives and children weep. 

Beware those sickly, shrivell'd groups, whose heart and hope 

have fled. 
Despair can nerve the weakest arm to desperate deeds for Bread." 

How deep, then, must be that degradation 
which shall satisfy the English monopolist ? 
when he is unmoved by the barbarous, accursed 
influence of laws which drive young maidens to 
" sell themselves for bread ;" and when beauty 
and health are gone, to become scavengers of 
the streets ! Shame upon British landlords and 
aristocrats. 



274 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

I know you often boast of your generosity to 
the poor ; but, good Heaven ! speak not of 
that. Are not your wines purchased with wid- 
ows' tears ? is not your venison sauced with or- 
phans' hunger ? You are the taunt of the 
/ world ! You roll your chariot wheels over 
<^ the crushed hearts of your fellow-men. 

Shame, too, upon England for bearing these 
things so long ; and tenfold shame upon you 
who batten upon these cruel laws. You are 
plunderers of the poor ; and whether you be 
duke, earl, marquis, or viscount, cease robbing 
the helpless, or abandon your pompous titles. 
It matters little what nickname a robber has ; 
the world only thinks the worse of you for be- 
ing a duke, when you steal from God's poor. 
Hear the indignant language in which a foreign 
journalist apostrophizes Lord Brougham : 

" Member of the British Parliament ! look 
around you : what do you see ? an aristocracy^ 
for the most part vicious and disorderly, tram- 
pling without pity upon the other classes; at 
the utmost a dozen of colossal fortunes, and the 
rest of the population pining under the weight 
of hunger and misery. Coarse and insolent 
Britain ! raze from your country's shield the 
noble lion, and place in its stead a squalid and 
starving wretch^ vainly imploring a morsel of 
bread.'*^ 



THE CORN-LAW REPEALERS. 275 

But, the reader will ask, " Is there no hope 
for the people ? Must they groan on, unpitied 
and unrelieved ?" No, I answer, the day of 
their redemption draws nigh. There is not on 
earth a nobler company of men than the corn- 
law Repealers. I honour them as much as T 
despise the framers and supporters of that out- 
rageous law. They have displayed throughout 
the contest, a manly, a humane and Christian 
spirit ; they are willing to suffer and sacrifice 
all things for their oppressed countrymen. 

Manchester is the headquarters of Repeal ; 
and every year the friends of Repeal assemble 
there by thousands, at a grand banquet. A 
short time ago more than 600 Christian minis- 
ters of all denominations met there, to lift up 
their united voices against the abominable corn- 
laws. They have thrown aside the absurd no- 
tion that ministers should have nothing to do 
with politics ; for they have found that while 
they were preaching, their hearers were star- 
ving ; that these odious laws oppose an insur- 
mountable barrier to the progress of truth. 
They felt, therefore, that they could not with- 
hold their influence from the Repeal and be 
guiltless; and they flocked from every quarter 
of the three kingdoms, to unite with men of all 
parties and pursuits, in one bold and resolute 
demand for justice to the people. 



276 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

Said the Rev. Daniel Hearne, a Catholic 
priest (for in some leading measures of reform 
the Catholic Church of Great Britain and Ire- 
land is doing nobly), " I will leave to others 
the task of explaining why wages are low and 
corn high in this country, while in America 
wages are high and corn low. — But he came 
forward," he said, " to bear his humble testimo- 
ny to that awful and continued distress which 
was raging in Manchester ; and which threat- 
ened, unless means were taken to alleviate it, 
to bring about a disruption of social order. A 
famine had been raging in the district where 
he lived since 1838, which proved the evil could 
not be a mere passing one ; and he attributed 
it to nothing else but the low rate of wages, 
which scarcely afforded to the poor labourer 
the means of feeding himself and offspring. 

" The meeting could scarcely form a con- 
ception of the misery and destitution prevailing 
in the district, of which he was a witness on 
this occasion.' He went lately to administer 
the consolations of religion to a poor dying 
woman. On arriving at her bedside, she seem- 
ed to be alone ; he asked if she was. ' John- 
ny !' said she, and immediately a sack in the 
corner of the room began to move, and then 
another began to move ; and out of these turn- 



I 



MISERY PRODUCED BY CORN-LAWS. 277 

bled the poor woman's sons, their only bed be- 
ing the inside of sacks filled with shavings. 

" He had about 25,000 of his flock living 
within half a mile of his chapel. Scarcely a 
single Catholic, unless in cases of sudden death, 
breathed his last without sending for the priest ; 
and of these — and he spoke from personal ob- 
servation — at least one half died from starva- 
tion ! 

" Talk of war ravaging a country !" said he. 
" Better by far is he who dies by the sword 
than he who is stricken by famine. I can 
bear but too strong testimony to the opinion 
expressed by Mr. M'Kerrow, that men in want 
of temporal comforts are but ill fitted to re. 
ceive the consolations of religion ; for I have 
found how difficult it is, when the poor man is 
dying, with his starving children around him, to 
stop the word of blasphemy issuing from his 
lips with his parting breath I" 

" Shall I," said the indignant Hearne, " shall 
I see my brethren, my spiritual children in 
Christ, starving, and be told that because I am 
a minister of God I must be silent ? No ! 
shame on the thought." 

Can an object more pure or more holy be 
presented to the consideration of a teacher of 
Christianity than to feed the hungry and clothe 
the naked ? Let ministers in England look at 

VoT,. IT.— A A 



278 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the thousands and millions of their flocks who 
are now dying from want, or fed by the cold 
hand of scanty charity. See where pinch- 
ing hunger has broken down the first barrier of 
shame, and, moved by the cries of clamouring 
infancy, the poor man at last plods his weary 
way to the terrible workhouse! See where 
poverty, no longer able to procure employ- 
ment, converts the citizen into the thief, the in- 
cendiary, and the murderer I 

Behold the peasant of England, once his 
country's pride, his wages not half adequate to 
meet the enormous price of even innutritious 
food. See where he disturbs the quiet repose 
of the sleeping village with midnigh* burgla- 
ry ; begins the trade of sheep or horse stealer ; 
or joins some desperate gang of footpads : fa- 
thers and husbands rushing from their Avretched 
homes to be out of hearing of the moans of 
famine, and swearing by the God of the poor 
that they will, rather rob on the high^vay than 
suffer their children to die of starvation. 

But all Britain is now stirred with corn-law 
excitement. There are two hundred news- 
papers in England alone, in which not a single 
week passes without articles in favour of Re- 
peal ; in the Sun, papers appear everi/ day ; and 
in the Chronicle, at least three times a week. I 
am quite certain, thai for one article written in 



LORD JOHN Russell's declaration. 279 

the daily, monthly, weekly, or quarterly press 
on any other subject, there are at least ten on the 
corn-laws. From one end of the kingdom to 
the other — from Cornwall to Inverness — there is 
one deep excitement, felt with equal intensity in 
the largest towns and the most retired villages. 
If Lord John Russell's declaration be well 
founded, that the real grievances of the people 
are altogether beyond the reach of Parliament- 
ary enactment, let him and his peers look to 
it. Sir Robert Peel will find the office of 
premier more onerous than ever it has been 
within the memory of man. So sure as the sun 
is in the heavens, the elements of social discord 
are now wide spread in Britain : as certain as 
the return of the seasons, is, and will be, the re- 
currence of threats, commotion, violence, and 
bloodshed, whether Sir Robert will it or not ; 
and some other means must be devised to put 
them down besides bullets and bayonets. 

Time, that cures other maladies, only strength- 
ens and increases this. While millions are be- 
ing wrung from the starving operatives, from 
broken-hearted widows and pale orphans, to 
add to the superfluities of the rich, what grosser 
insult to " the venerable presence of misery," 
than for a minister to tell the people he has no 
remedy for their grievances ? 

But the time is at hand when the money 



280 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND 

SO long robbed from the poor to support the 
carriage of the squire, gild the coronet of the 
peer, or deck the jewelled throng of Almack's 
perfumed halls, shall provide for the wretched 
a home, where cheerful faces shall beam with 
honest joy around loaded tables ; where the 
voice of health and salvation shall be heard; 
and where the rich man shall trouble them no 
more. 

I feel, sir, that I have done but little justice 
to this great subject. Accept, sir, assurances 
of distinguished regard from 

Your faithful servant, 

C. Edwards Lester. 

Utica, Ociober 7, 1841. 



SKNSAII iNS ON MAKING LAND. 281 



CONCLUSION. 

When I once more saw the green hills of my 
native country, from the bow of the ill-fated 
President as she approached for the first time 
the shores of the New World, a thrill of joy 
went to my heart which made me forget all the 
loneliness of my wanderings in other lands. 
It was a calm, glorious morning. A deep blue 
sky was bending over us, and all around old 
ocean slept without a ripple or murmur. With 
a gratitude which can be felt only by him who 
has been borne safely over the " wild and 
wasteful ocean^" where so many barks have 
gone down forever, I recalled the touching 
words of David : " So he bringeth them to their 
desired haven — O that men would praise the 
Lord for his goodness and for his wonder- 
ful works to the children of men." There is 
never a period, perhaps, that the heart of man 
responds more warmly to the touching chorus 
of that beautiful Psalm, than when he has left 
the wide ocean, with its tempests and dangers, 
far behind him, and sees again the glad shores 
of his native country. 

I had so long witnessed the oppressions and 
sufferings of the English people, that I longed 
A a2 



282 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

to Step once more upon the free soil of my 
childhood, and thank the God of my fathers 
with heartfelt gratitude that I had a free home 
to go to. 

I hoped I should have had room for some 
things which do not appear in this work. I 
wished to speak of the Established Church ;* 
of the political state of Ireland ; of the last days 
of L. E. Ij., as I received the account from one 
of her most intimate female friends ; to have 
given the conversations of some other distin- 
guished authors, and a few original poems from 
their pens ; descriptions of the lake scenery in 
the north of England; night rambles in Lon- 
don with a popular author; and, something of 
more consequence than all, original communi- 
cations from some of the most distinguished 
statesmen in Europe. But this must all be de- 
ferred, for the present at least. A few obser- 
vations shall bring these volumes to a close. 

Around English history there is to us a 
charm found in no other. The recent and the 
remote ; the plain and the obscure ; novelty 
springing up by the gray remains of antiquity ; 
and all the elements of the touching, the beau- 

* I will here take occasion to remark, that in nothing which has 
gone before would I be understood as speaking against Episcopacy, 
either in its peculiar doctrines or forms, however much I may differ 
from them ; but only against the abuses of the Religious EstMish' 
mtnt, as sustained by law, and forming a part of the state. 



OUR INTEREST IN ENGLAND'S HISTORY. 283 

tiful. the gloomy, and the grand, mingle with 
the chronicles of the Father-land. With us, all 
is familiar and modern. It is true, we read 
with pride and emotion of our fathers' strug- 
gles, when the story leads us through the toils 
of the Revolution back to the gloom of the 
green old forests and the desolation of Ply- 
mouth landing ; but there the story ceases in 
America, and we must cross the water for an 
account of our antecedent national existence. 
We personally, then, have an interest in the 
history of Britain, and can betimes forget Amer- 
ica as it slumbered on unwaked by the sea-gun 
of Columbus, while we retrace the glory of our 
ancestors through successive ages, to the time 
when the Roman conqueror first planted the 
eagle of Italy on the rocks of Britain, and re- 
turned to tell of a stormy island in the ocean, 
and of the rugged barbarians who dwelt in its 
glens and hunted on its cliffs. 

It is natural that the American should read 
with the deepest interest of the defeats, the 
struggles, and the triumphs of Britons in those 
rude times ; and look with the indignation of 
a freeman and the love of a brother upon the 
sufferings of his kinsmen who dwell there now. 
The starving peasant and the pale operative are 
the sons of those who not long ago dwelt with 
his own father on the banks of the Tweed or 



[ 



284 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

the Severn : why should he not feel for them 
as for a brother ? 

England owes much of her progress to the 
spirit of liberty, caught at first from her own 
wild hills : a spirit which was kept alive and 
invigorated by the fierce struggles through 
which she had to pass. More favourable cir- 
cumstances than those in her history could not 
have combined for the formation of a free, 
brave, and generous people. In the freedom 
of her political institutions, she was for ages in 
advance of the rest of the world ; for the dem- 
ocratic principle had crept into her Constitution 
long before mankind had elsewhere begun to 
question the divine ri^ht of kings. Many a time 
were English tyrants made to bow before the 
indignant Briton. Thus was the pride of the 
Norman princes humbled, when upon King 
John the assembled barons imposed the Mag- 
na Charta. Thus, too, did the nation avenge 
the insolence and tyranny of the Tudors on 
their weakened and helpless successors, when 
a haughty line of monarchs went down in mis- 
fortune and blood, and the sceptre was grasped 
by the great Cromwell. 

Much has been said against Cromwell ; but 
none deny that it Avas under his splendid ad- 
ministration English liberty assumed its broad- 
est character. Scenes of riot and anarchy ex- 



THE PURITANS. 285 

isted, it is true ; but they were accompanied 
with blessings, for the absence of which nothing 
could atone. They Avaked in the bosom of the 
people those fires of liberty which have been 
the hope of England to this hour ; fires, too, 
from which our own altars were kindled. For 
it was during that great struggle, with the 
sound of contention still in their ears, and the 
shout of liberty, mingled with prayers to God, 
still on their lips, that the Puritans bore away 
with them all England had ever known of po- 
litical or religious freedom. England was un- 
conscious at the time that the greatest of her 
offspring were taking with them the fruits of 
that Revolution to a forest home, where they 
would rear an empire that could not be con- 
quered. 

History tells us, that after a great effort 
the human mind settles into repose, and rests 
satisfied with past achievements. After the 
restoration of Charles II., who never should 
have been permitted to wear a crown, the flames 
of liberty seemed to go out, and the reign of 
tyranny again commenced. From that time 
the mass of the people have sunk down in 
uncomplaining silence : " Now and then, in- 
deed, they have bustled about and shook their 
chains ;" but to little purpose. 

The nation has increased in power," wealth. 



286 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

arts, and learning ; but the progress has been 
confined to the higher orders. The mass have 
been below the current of advancement — busy 
in toiling for bread. What has England's 
prosperity been to the poor ? Machinery has 
only lessened the value of their honest la- 
bour ; commerce only increased the luxuries 
of the rich ; books, though as abundant as the 
productions of the earth, have done nothing 
for the toil-worn craftsman, whom drugdery 
has left no time to read. The world has moved 
on, but brought to him none of the blessings 
civilization should profusely scatter in her prog- 
ress; and while every other land is filled with 
the elegant productions of English art, the poor 
enjoy none of the abundance they so liberal- 
ly dispense. Commerce, which in our times 
seems to unite with Christianity in achieving the 
world's redemption, is to him a bitter curse. 

Is this the nation once the freest on earth ? 
It is now more polished, opulent, and splendid 
than ever ; but it has also within its bounds, 
deeper suffering and more crying wrong than it 
ever had in the days of its ancient obscurity ; 
and this suffering and wrong seem the more 
intense and unnatural in contrast with the spirit 
of the age. 

But there is a point where degradation passes 
the bounds of endurance ; and England's peo- 



THE PEOPLE WILL HAVE LIBERTY. 



287 



pie, who have so long bowed down in silent 
sorrow to the cruel arm of tyranny, are starting 
from their dream-like stupor. The sun of Lib- 
erty, now advancing high in the heavens, be- 
gins to throw some glancing beams through 
the gratings of their prison ; they are looking 
anxiously abroad to find the occasion of their 
miseries ; and wo to those from whom they 
conceive their miseries to flow. They drop 
the hammer upon the anvil ; they pass from the 
clank of the factory, and ask for bread ; it is 
not given : they will know why it is the Eng- 
lish labourer must starve in a world of plenty. 
Once deeply stirred to a sense of injury and 
wrong, these men will not be silenced : 

" Not poppy, nor mandragora, 
Nor all the drowsy sirups of the world, 
Shall ever medicine them to silence." 

English legislators begin to feel this ; and ever 
and anon committees are appointed, reports 
made, so charged with human wo that they 
almost turn the reader's brain to madness ; and 
bills are passed ostensibly for relief; but the 
evil is not reached : it is all shallow legislation. 
Says Carlyle, " You abohsh the symptom 
to no purpose, if the disease is left untouch- 
ed. Boils on the surface are curable or incu- 
rable : small matter, while the virulent humour 
festers deep within, poisoning the sources of 



288 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

life ; and certain enough to find for itself new 
boils and sore issues ; ways of announcing that 
it continues there, that it would fain not con- 
tinue there." 

Thus England's wise men cheat themselves, 
and — the people for a ivhile, by passing laws to 
quiet their discontent, grown fierce and mad. 
It is a silly expedient to play this game. " It 
is the resource of the ostrich, who, hard hunt- 
ed, sticks his foolish head in the sand, and 
thinks his foolish unseeing body is unseen too." 

Some men think England now more power- 
ful than ever ; but such persons forget the loild 
boiling' sea of smothered discontent, which is 
heaving under the throne and the aristocracy. 
It is as certain that the English Government 
will be overthrown, as that it is God's sublime 
purpose to emancipate a long-fettered world, 
unless she shall cease her obstinate and blind 
opposition to the progress of freedom, and 
grant the people justice. No man who feels 
in his own soul the lofty spirit of the age, and 
tracks the progress of the car of Liberty as it 
rolls among the nations, can believe that Eng- 
land will be able much longer to breast herself 
up against the advancement of humanity : the 
majestic movements of God's Providence can 
be clearly seen ; a train of causes are in oper- 
ation too mighty to be resisted by the crura- 



INSATIABLE AMBITION OF ENGLAND. 289 

bling thrones of despotism. No ; England can 
do all mortal man can do ; she never vacil- 
lates, is never faint-hearted : but she cannot 
successfully oppose the spirit of the age. She 
has rife within herself the fiercest elements of 
disorder, revolution, and decay. These are 
her internal foes. 

But, more than this, a deep-seated indigna- 
tion against her is manifesting itself throughout 
the world. Ambition and injustice have made 
up the history of her diplomacy for centuries 
past ; and her navy has been the grand execu- 
tor of her will. By it she has acquired her 
foreign power ; and through it for nearly three 
centuries she has possessed facilities for visit- 
ing every country to Avhich wind and wave can 
bear ; and these facilities have been most ac- 
tively improved. She has become familiar 
with every point of great commercial advan- 
tage, and appropriated to herself all the soli- 
tary and unclaimed islands, and many of the 
claimed ones, she has found straggling at a 
convenient distance from the mainland. By 
discovery, conquest, and usurpation, she has 
reared an empire upon which the sun never 
goes down ; and this she has accomplished by 
being able to traverse the ocean without fear or 
molestation. 

Distance had hitherto formed a limit for con- 

VOL. II.— B B 



290 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

quest ; and Alexander himself would have been 
a harmless assailant against an island standing 
off a few leagues at sea. A few months have 
sufficed to transport her armies to the most dis- 
tant countries ; and that, too, frequently in an 
unexpected hour for her enemies. The naval 
supremacy of England once established, her 
political supremacy followed as a matter of 
course. By various devices she has extended 
her acquisitions alike in peace and in war ; and 
whatever she has acquired she has steadily re- 
tained. Thus, by discovery, silent assumption, 
or conquest, her claims have continued to groAv; 
and when open plunder would not do, she has 
tried her hand at private filching. According- 
ly, we see her asserting some ncAV pretensions 
almost every day. She seems to be now hesi- 
tating whether to appropriate the Celestial Em- 
pire to herself; the whole coast of Africa is 
under her special protection ; she owns no in- 
considerable part of the State of Maine ; and, 
forsooth, has complacently planted herself upon 
the other extremity of our empire, beyond the 
Rocky Mountains. 

We might suppose, indeed, to observe the 
policy of England, that the ultimate reversion- 
ary interest and fee-simple of the whole earth 
Avas in the Britisli crown, nnd all the babbling 
nations mere tenants at sufferance, and liable to 



INTEREST SHAPES THE POLICY OF NATIONS. 291 

be turned out on short notice. But, alas ! it is 
much to be feared that some of them will prove 
a troublesome tenantry. Even the " Down- 
easters" have already had the audacity wholly 
to disregard her notice to quit ; maintaining 
their ground, probably, not becaiise they sup- 
pose they have a right to it, but by reason of 
some technical informality in the manner of 
serving the writ. 

But her navy can no longer secure to Brit- 
ain the same supremacy as in former times. 
The rivalships of nations are not now, as once, 
of a warlike character — they are struggling 
for the mastery in commerce. The motive 
of national glory has in a measure given way 
to that of interest ; and the acquisition of wealth 
is the principal advantage a nation now prom- 
ises to itself in diplomacy. A great strug- 
gle has commenced in those arts which hu- 
manize mankind. This, it is true, is not yet 
the full result ; it is only the tendency of af- 
fairs. Preparations for war are still made ; 
national antipathies are still indulged ; but 
these are hourly growing feebler and less ran- 
corous. Such enterprises are looked upon with 
coldness and disapprobation ; and the madness 
of plunging nations into war for trivial causes 
is constantly becoming more and more palpable. 

It is therefore to be hoped that the exten- 



292 GLORY AND SHAME OF ENGLAND. 

sive possessions of Britain will be made only 
the means of extending civilization and en- 
hancing her commercial importance ; that they 
will no longer be turned into pretexts for quar- 
rels and wars ; that her grasping ambition will 
stop before she shall have kindled against her 
universal exasperation. The political equality 
of nations was recognised long before the po- 
litical equality of men ; and in attempting, 
therefore, to overshadow and trample upon the 
kingdoms around her, England is violating an 
older and longer-established principle than 
when she dresses one man in gold and sends 
him to the House of Lords, and another in rags 
and sends him to the workhouse. But this last 
practice may prove sufficiently dangerous, as 
the first may prove sufficiently fatal. 

England is glorious by reason of her age, 
her ruins, her power ; her commerce, which has 
extended over the world; her Christian mis- 
sionaries, who are calling the pagans from their 
idols ; and her bards and orators, whose names 
stand bright on the records of mankind. But 
we cannot admire the spirit of that policy which, 
in giving the nation power and consideration 
abroad, leaves it weakened and wretched at 
home ; which, in providing the rest of the world 
with the elegances and luxuries of civilized 
life, leaves the crowded masses of its own poor 



CAUTIONS TO England's presumption. 293 

in ignorance and starvation ; which, in its ef- 
forts to keep up the nation's outward pomp and 
display, takes no heed of its sickness and suf- 
fering within. 

Let her remember that no sadder aspect in 
the decay of civic society can be presented, 
than when honest labourers by millions are per- 
ishing with want, while an aristocracy around 
them are rolling in voluptuousness ; that while 
the great middle class of her citizens are 
clamorous for their political rights, at the 
same time the lower classes are clamorous for 
bread ; that her provinces are held by a frail 
tenure ; that the branches of her power are 
already grown too large for the parent tree ; 
that the heart of an empire may decay while a 
distant dependency continues to flourish. Let 
her remember, too, that a power greater than 
her own has left no traces of its existence in 
Italy ; and that the "barbarian's steed long ago 
made his manger in the golden house of Nero 1'* 



THE END. 



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